Gareth looked at Ethan, a cold sneer buried in the back of his eyes.
"Slandering a Duke of the realm — whatever your intentions — that alone is a crime no one can shield you from."
As he said it, his gaze slipped briefly to Vivienne's face. He caught himself, but not quickly enough.
His plan was already forming. He'd let the court Officials pile pressure on the Queen to strip Ethan of his title. That would throw the palace into confusion — exactly the opening his father needed. And once Goldmere's governance fractured, an opportunity would present itself. One that went well beyond politics.
Vivienne showed nothing. Her expression was smooth and still, her dark red eyes holding a quiet intensity beneath the surface.
She understood Gareth perfectly. The Dunmore family had never accepted her rule. The Duke of Ashenvale — Gareth's father, Lord Aldous Dunmore — had spent his entire career chafing under the idea that a young woman held the throne. He had his own ambitions for it. He always had.
The moment Aldous learned his own heir was being publicly accused of treason by the Queen's consort, he would use it as leverage. He would make noise. He would push.
Vivienne glanced toward Ethan but said nothing. She wanted to see what he would do with this.
"I don't spread rumors." Ethan's mouth curved — steady, unhurried, the expression of a man who had already seen how this would end.
"Since you want to know why I'm certain the Duke of Ashenvale will rebel — fine. I'll tell you."
He straightened, his long hair catching the wind, his voice carrying easily without being raised.
"The pattern of the world is this: what has been divided long enough will unite, and what has been united long enough will divide. The kingdoms of this continent have been at war for centuries. Countless great rulers have risen, and just as many have been swept away. Anyone paying attention can see that unification is coming. No kingdom wants to be swallowed — so every one of them is preparing for the moment it arrives."
"The Duke does not trust Her Majesty. He does not believe a woman can lead Goldmere to victory. And so, in the three years since the Queen took the throne, he has been quietly building — expanding his territory, raising troops, recruiting cultivators. His ambition has been on display for anyone willing to look."
The market had gone silent. Everyone within earshot had stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at the young man with the black ribbon over his eyes — speaking with the ease of someone who had studied the matter for years.
Bold words. The kind that could bury a family.
Chancellor Greymoor's eyes shifted, and he murmured almost to himself: "What has been divided long enough must unite. What has been united long enough must divide." He turned the words over quietly. "Well said."
The Captain of the Royal Guard had edged over from his wine stall to listen, and now gave a low, involuntary sound of appreciation. "To read the state of the whole continent from a quiet village corner — and with clear eyes, not just bravado. Could he actually be what they call a Sage?"
Greymoor considered this. "A Sage, in the old sense, has nothing to do with cultivation level. It's anyone who has truly understood the Heavenly Dao — the deep current beneath everything. To such a mind, the world has no real secrets."
The Captain exhaled slowly. "That powerful? Are there actually Sages alive today?"
"The histories record one," Greymoor said. "Three thousand years ago. A mortal man who rode an ox, wrote down what he knew, and lived a hundred quiet years before he died." He shook his head. "Only the one."
Across from them, Gareth had kept his face neutral through all of it. He stood behind his stall, arms folded, expression dismissive.
"Eloquent," he said flatly. "But troop movements and territorial expansion prove nothing. That's ambition, not treason."
"I'm not finished," Ethan said pleasantly.
"The Duke hasn't left Ashenvale — but his son, the heir Lord Gareth Dunmore…"
He paused.
He turned his head in Gareth's direction. Not searching, not guessing — he turned it exactly right, his sightless face pointed with precision.
"…hasn't he already been in the capital for nearly two weeks?"
For a moment, Gareth forgot to breathe. Something cold moved through him — as if a door had opened behind him and he'd felt the draft before he heard it.
"What… what about Gareth Dunmore?" he said, keeping his voice flat.
Ethan had spent his time well. Every morning walk to the market, every overheard conversation between passersby — he had built a picture of current events piece by piece, cross-checking against what he remembered from the novel's plot. The villagers weren't keeping secrets from him; they were just playing their parts.
Ethan tilted his head slightly, afternoon light catching his profile.
"Lord Gareth Dunmore came to the capital with one purpose: to cause internal damage to Goldmere. He brought a team of assassins who have already embedded themselves in the city. He's the spark — the one who lights the fire so the Duke can justify moving his army."
"I'd wager the Duke already has a hundred thousand soldiers assembled somewhere, sitting quietly, waiting for the signal."
Gareth's mind went completely blank.
Then it went cold.
Everything Ethan had just said — the structure of it, the specific details — it was accurate. Not an approximation. Not an informed guess. The rough outline of the actual plan.
There's a traitor. That was his first thought. But his second one destroyed it immediately.
Only two people alive knew the full plan. Him and his father.
Am I the traitor? The thought was absurd and yet he couldn't shake it.
Vivienne's eyes narrowed by the smallest degree. She had caught the change in Gareth's face — the stillness of someone caught rather than someone falsely accused. She turned her gaze to Ethan, standing easy in the sunlight, and felt something she hadn't expected.
Was he actually right?
The temperature of the market dropped.
Every Official present was watching Gareth now, and every one of them was reading the same thing in his face.
"You still have no proof," Gareth said, wiping his forehead with two fingers and producing a stiff smile. "Clever reasoning isn't evidence."
Ethan blinked. "Why does it matter to you? You're a vegetable farmer."
A reasonable observation. A farmer had no particular stake in whether a Duke stood accused of treason or not.
Gareth had no answer for that.
"Ethan." Vivienne's voice was quiet but precise. "Do you have actual evidence that Lord Gareth Dunmore entered the capital in service of his father's rebellion?"
Ethan looked mildly surprised — apparently not expecting his wife to press the point either.
Then he smiled. "Alright. Since you're asking too — yes. I'll tell you."
Gareth went still. You actually have evidence?
Every head in the market turned.
Ethan said, without heat: "The assassins Lord Gareth Dunmore brought with him have already moved into position inside Chancellor Greymoor's estate. Their target is the Chancellor himself."
Greymoor's expression hardened instantly. He hadn't expected to become the centerpiece of the story.
The Officials nearby looked at Village Elder Greymoor in unmasked shock.
Gareth would dare to move against the Chancellor of Goldmere?
Greymoor caught the Captain of the Royal Guard's eye and mouthed two words: Check it.
The Captain understood immediately and slipped away without a sound.
"Then we'll see," Vivienne said, her voice light and her eyes anything but warm.
"Nothing to be anxious about," Ethan said easily. "You'll have news within the hour. Then you can decide if what I said holds up."
The Captain returned in short order. His face was controlled, but tight. He gave Vivienne a single quiet nod.
The assassins had been found. Every word of it confirmed.
Lord Gareth Dunmore had brought killers into the capital and placed them inside the Chancellor's estate — a coordinated strike designed to destabilize Goldmere's leadership and create the opening his father needed.
"Were their orders traced back to a source?" Greymoor asked through a private sound-sending technique, his voice reaching only the Captain.
The Captain glanced at Gareth, who was standing very still. "Yes, my lord. Their memories confirm it directly. Lord Gareth Dunmore gave the orders himself."
The crowd stared.
One voice came out above the rest, shaking slightly: "A — a Sage."
"He guided a First Rank swordsman into the Skyrise Realm with a few words. He reads the state of the world from a quiet backwater village. What else could you call it?"
Vivienne stood very still for a moment.
Then, despite herself, she looked at Ethan — standing there in the afternoon light, relaxed and unremarkable, his eyes hidden behind a strip of black silk.
My husband is actually a Sage?