Chapter 14 The Traitor Strikes #2
The Chancellor wore dark ceremonial robes rather than armor, as though he were attending another ordinary Council meeting instead of visiting a political prisoner.
His silver hair remained perfectly arranged, and the polished ring bearing the Chancellor's seal caught the lantern light with every measured step.
He dismissed the guards with a slight movement of one hand.
"I would like to speak with Captain Draven alone."
The soldiers hesitated only briefly before obeying.
Once the heavy door closed again, silence settled over the cell.
Lord Varric studied Caelan for several moments.
"You've always been difficult."
Caelan met his gaze calmly.
"I've heard that before."
"It was usually spoken with admiration."
"I doubt that's true today."
"No."
Varric smiled thinly.
"It isn't."
He walked slowly around the small cell, examining the walls as though inspecting a historical monument.
"I've spent years observing remarkable men."
"Soldiers."
"Scholars."
"Kings."
"They all shared one weakness."
"And what was that?"
"Loyalty."
Caelan raised an eyebrow.
"Most people consider that a strength."
"Only until it becomes inconvenient."
The Chancellor stopped in front of him.
"You've thrown away an extraordinary future."
"I chose it."
"You chose poverty."
"I chose honor."
Varric sighed quietly.
"You really believe those are the same thing."
"They often are."
The older man's expression remained composed.
"You were born the son of a village blacksmith."
"You became Captain of the Royal Guard."
"You earned the King's confidence."
"You could have become Marshal of every army in the kingdom."
He folded his hands behind his back.
"Instead..."
He looked directly into Caelan's eyes.
"...you surrendered everything for one man."
Caelan answered without hesitation.
"I surrendered nothing."
"You surrendered your career."
"My rank."
"My future."
Caelan shook his head.
"No."
"I gave those things away willingly."
"They were never worth more than my conscience."
The Chancellor regarded him thoughtfully.
"I almost admire that."
"Almost?"
"You make loyalty sound noble."
"It is."
"It also makes men predictable."
Varric stepped closer.
"You know why I succeeded?"
Caelan remained silent.
"Because everyone else believed people couldn't be bought."
He smiled faintly.
"They're wrong."
"Everyone has a price."
"No."
The answer came immediately.
"They have a fear."
"There's a difference."
For the first time, a flicker of irritation crossed Varric's face.
"You truly believe that."
"I do."
The Chancellor moved toward the small table standing in the corner of the cell.
Upon it rested a silver pitcher filled with fresh water and a single untouched loaf of bread.
He poured himself a cup before continuing.
"Let us stop pretending this conversation concerns philosophy."
"It concerns Rowan."
Caelan's expression did not change.
"I expected as much."
"I'll make this very simple."
Varric took another measured sip.
"Tell me where the prince is."
Silence.
"I can restore your title."
Silence.
"I can erase every accusation."
Silence.
"I can grant you lands."
"Wealth."
"A noble house."
Silence.
"You could command every soldier in the kingdom."
Caelan almost smiled.
"You've misunderstood me completely."
Varric waited.
"I never served for titles."
"I never fought for wealth."
"I certainly never wanted a noble house."
The Chancellor set the cup aside.
"What do you want?"
Caelan answered so quietly that the words almost disappeared into the stillness of the prison.
"A kingdom that deserves its people."
Another silence followed.
Longer this time.
Varric studied him carefully, perhaps searching for hesitation that simply wasn't there.
Instead, he found only certainty.
"You disappoint me."
"I've survived worse criticism."
The Chancellor laughed softly.
"I believe you."
He walked slowly toward the prison door before stopping once more.
"There is one final offer."
Caelan said nothing.
"If Rowan comes willingly..."
His voice became almost conversational.
"...I may allow him to live."
Caelan looked at him steadily.
"You've never intended that."
The pleasant expression vanished.
"No."
"I haven't."
"Then we're finished."
For several heartbeats, neither man moved.
Finally, Lord Varric nodded once.
"So we are."
He struck the prison door twice with the handle of his cane.
The guards returned immediately.
As they secured the heavy locks once more, Varric looked back over his shoulder.
"I hope your prince values sacrifice as highly as you do."
The door slammed shut.
Darkness returned.
Caelan leaned back against the cold stone wall.
His wrists ached beneath the weight of iron.
His shoulders protested every movement after the battle.
None of it mattered.
The documents remained with Rowan.
The truth remained alive.
That knowledge alone brought a quiet sense of peace.
Hours passed.
Perhaps an entire night.
Time lost meaning beneath the palace.
Occasionally another prisoner shouted somewhere deep within the old tunnels before silence swallowed every sound again.
Caelan remained exactly where he was.
Thinking.
Remembering.
Not battles.
Not victories.
Ordinary moments.
Rowan laughing beside the river after catching another fish.
The sanctuary filled with the smell of fresh bread.
Training beneath clear mountain skies.
The quiet promise they had exchanged beneath the observatory.
Those memories steadied him more effectively than any weapon ever had.
Eventually footsteps echoed through the corridor once more.
This time there were many.
The prison door opened.
Captain Lucien stood between two guards, his own hands bound.
A bruise darkened one side of his face, but his familiar grin remained stubbornly intact.
"I've had better mornings."
Caelan smiled despite himself.
"You usually do."
The guards separated them immediately, leading Lucien toward another cell farther down the corridor.
As he disappeared from view, Lucien called back quietly.
"They're frightened."
Caelan frowned.
"Who?"
"The Council."
"They're arguing."
The guards shoved him forward before he could say more.
Those few words lingered in Caelan's thoughts.
The Council was arguing.
That meant not everyone accepted Varric's version of events.
The truth had already begun reaching the right people.
Perhaps Rowan had succeeded.
Perhaps—
The sharp blast of a ceremonial horn interrupted his thoughts.
Another answered.
Then another.
The sounds echoed through every level of the palace.
Moments later, voices carried down the prison corridor.
Not whispers.
Public announcements.
A royal herald stood somewhere above the prison entrance, reading from an official proclamation loud enough for the entire palace to hear.
"By authority of the Royal Council and Chancellor Lord Varric..."
The words echoed through the ancient stone.
"...former Captain Caelan Draven has been found guilty of high treason, conspiracy against the Crown, and the murder of Crown Prince Rowan Ashbourne."
Caelan closed his eyes.
He already knew what came next.
"The sentence shall be carried out at sunrise."
The herald's voice grew louder.
"The execution shall take place before the assembled Royal Council so that justice may be witnessed by the realm."
Silence followed.
Then footsteps slowly faded away.
Caelan remained seated in the darkness.
Sunrise.
There wasn't much time left.
Yet strangely, he felt no despair.
If Lord Varric intended to make his execution a public spectacle before the entire Council, he was gathering every important witness in the kingdom into a single chamber.
Exactly where Rowan needed them to be.
For the first time since his capture, Caelan allowed himself the smallest hint of hope.
Lord Varric believed sunrise would end the story.
Caelan suspected it would be the beginning of the Chancellor's downfall.
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