A/N: this chapter was supposed to have more happening in it, but I realized it would have ended up being too long, so I split it. The good news being that this way I have a good part of the next chapter done, so I'll be able to update again in a couple of weeks at most.
It took months for it to work.
Months of acting, of clenching his jaw and fists any time the queen was near and looking away, months of pretending to be holding back a scowl of anger at being ignored; all without even daring to sneak a glance at High General Vulneraria so that he wouldn't guess it was nothing but an act meant for him to see, so Quercus couldn't even tell his reactions to it.
There were times when Quercus almost thought it wasn't going to work, that it was useless – but the times he would be ordered to join the queen in her quarters, she'd tell him not to worry and simply keep the act up.
"He's watching you closely," she told him one night. "I do have my own sources. And you've been convincing so far; it's only a matter of time."
She was right. One afternoon after an especially boring reunion concerning the possibility of reducing the number of men on stance at the capital, while Quercus was already walking out of the Council room, High General Vulneraria called out for him.
"May I have a word with you, General Alba?"
Quercus stiffened for a moment before he forced himself to relax and turned to see High General Vulneraria standing a few feet from him. Now that he could allow himself to observe him from up close, Quercus couldn't help but think he hadn't changed much since the first time he had seen him, right before the civil war. His receding hair and his mustache had a little more of white and a little less of grey now and, while it made Quercus briefly think of the spray of grey now showing on his temples – good grief, time really was passing – it wasn't enough to make him look like an easily fooled old man. He was someone whose mind worked all too well, and around whom he was going to have to be careful.
"Of course, sir," he said, not even really needing much of an effort to feign surprised: he had been caught by surprise.
The older man smirked. "You sound surprised," he said, stepping past him and gesturing for him to follow so that they'd be walking side to side. "Fair enough, I suppose. We rarely exchanged more than a few words, after all," he added, and chuckled. "Pretty heated ones, too, at least from my part. Talk about a rocky start. I never quite got around to tell you that you truly handled the rebellion well."
Quercus was almost tempted to agree, say that of course he had since unlike him he knew what war was about – still, he knew he had to be as humble as he could now. "I suppose I was lucky. I was rather hot-headed and rash. Had I not been able to handle it, I could have caused a disaster."
"Oh well. I suppose that what matters is that you were, in fact, able to end the war quickly. Let's think no more of it," Vulneraria said, and he smiled pleasantly. "After all, young people are supposed to be rash. I tend to forget it. I used to be a lot like you."
Quercus allowed himself a chuckle, knowing the High General couldn't know what he really felt like laughing at was the assumption he had just made. He had never been like Quercus was, never: Quercus was a soldier, while Vulneraria had never been. "I hardly feel as young as I used to be, sir. Sitting for hours leaves my back stiff. It wouldn't have happened five years ago."
"Oh, now, now. Barely in your forties and complaining already?" Vulneraria chided him, and Quercus was almost amused by how patronizing he managed to sound. "If anyone here should complain about advancing age, that's me."
Time to behave like a humble inferior desperate for support again, Quercus thought: now that he thought he had lost Queen Luzula's support, that was what the High General was certainly expecting from him after all. "I must say, sir, that you hardly appear like someone to be bothered by advancing age at all."
"So I was told," Vulneraria laughed, clearly pleased, then, "you know, some other generals and I meet from time to time in my residence for dinner. Next time will be in three days. Why don't you join us?"
That was it, Quercus thought – that was his chance. Of course, he had no doubt over the fact he was going to need more time and patience to get where he wanted… but it was a start, finally. "I'd be honored to, sir."
"Very well, then. I'll let you know what time it is," the old man said, giving him a friendly pat on the back before walking off. Quercus stared at his retreating back for a few moment, fighting a smirk off his face, and kept walking in the opposite direction.
He stopped near the end of the hallway, though, and glanced around until he spotted one guard in particular – one of those who stood in front of the queen's quarters any time she asked for him to join her there, one of those Queen Luzula considered trustworthy above doubt. Making sure no one was looking in his direction with a quick glance, Quercus reached up to take off one of his medals – the copy of the one he had left to Daphne, he thought for a moment – and walked up toward the guard with it in his hand.
He walked up to him, gave him a quick glance… and then he walked past him, letting the medal fall on the floor as he did.
The tingling of metal on marble was immediately followed by the guard's voice. "You lost a medal, sir."
Quercus stopped walking as though his voice had pulled him back from his thoughts and turned to see the man picking up the metal and handing to him. He shook his head with a chuckle. "My, again? It's the third time already. I should learn to be more careful," he commented aloud as he reached to take the medal, then, "tell Her Highness I have news to report to her," he whispered, his lips barely moving. He supposed he could have written a message to the queen, but he'd rather keep their written exchange to the minimum where they weren't strictly necessary. A letter can fall in anyone's hands, after all – he knew it well, since that was what had saved his life and allowed him to climb ranks once.
The guard gave him a slight nod – one that could have easily mistaken for a simple gesture of respect – and Quercus walked away, putting the medal back in place.
He wasn't at all surprised when he was summoned to the queen's quarters that same night.
"And he specifically asked for you to join?" Queen Luzula asked, her eyes narrowing in thought. Despite that, Quercus could easily read some smugness in her expression and posture, that of someone who's thinking 'I told you he would'.
"That he did," he replied. "He expressly invited me for dinner on Thursday at his residence. Along with the other generals he keeps close, I suppose."
"That's likely. I was already aware of the fact they often meet at his residence; private dinners, of course. But it certainly doesn't take much to guess it's not only mundane talk they engage into," the queen smirked and reached across the chessboard to move a bishop forward. "It seems you've found your opening to get into the inner circle. Play your cards well, and you could have a chance to do more good to this country than any war you fought and won ever did."
"I will keep that in mind, Your Highness," Quercus said quietly before reaching to move a rook. It was rather amusing how he never knew what to expect whenever he was called into Queen Luzula's bedchamber. Sometimes they would simply discuss the situation and then he'd leave, sometimes he stayed for the night… and sometimes they'd discuss over a chess game. In such occasions Quercus never knew whether after it she would want him to stay or leave. It vastly depended on how the game went: if he won, he usually could stay – and have her. "I won't fail."
"I should hope so. If they guess what your purpose for being there truly is, you'll be as good as dead. If they don't have you killed, then I will," she said plainly, moving her queen to eat one of Quercus' knights as thought to emphasize her point. "You'd be left with nothing to lose, and might just decide to turn your loyalty elsewhere. I cannot afford the risk of having you as an enemy, General Alba," she added, putting the knight she had just eaten beside the chessboard and hitting it with a finger, causing it to fall off the table. It was made of ivory, and clattered on the marble floor. "This country cannot afford that risk. And the country comes before anything and anyone else."
Well, Quercus thought, she certainly wasn't being subtle. It was a morbid conversation, but it made him smirk nonetheless. "I'll take it as a compliment, Your Highness. A humble knight, a threat to the queen?"
"You're general, not a knight. And humble you've never been. You don't seem bothered by what I told you," she observed, resting her chin on her palm.
"I'd be if I thought I might fail. I don't."
Her lips curled in an amused smile. "You're arrogant," she commented, making her move and eating his only remaining rook. "Probably one of the most arrogant men I've ever met."
"I was under the impression you appreciated that."
"Mainly because, unlike many others, you do have a good reason to be this confident," she tilted up her head to look straight in his eyes. "As long as it doesn't turn into plain foolishness."
Quercus cocked an eyebrow and brought a hand to his heart, pretending to be hurt. "Now that was cruel, Your Highness – flattering me one moment to insult me the next. You should know by now that I'm not in the habit of rushing into anything without thinking things through very carefully," he smiled at her and glanced down at the chessboard. "Case in point," he added.
Queen Luzula followed his gaze, and it took her only a few moments to realize what he meant – she had fallen into a trap. It was Quercus' turn to move, and his other knight was just in the right position to eat the queen; after getting her most important piece out of the way, he was certainly going to head for the king. He had practically won that game.
"As you can see," Quercus went on, picking up the knight he had left and letting his hand hover above the queen, "I'm not one to act foolishly: everything I do is carefully pondered beforehand. I will not fail. The only way for me to be a threat to you would be turning against you. But," he pulled his hand back from above the queen and moved his knight on another square, where her bishop was. He hit it lightly with his knight, causing it to fall over and roll down the table and onto the ground, much like his other knight minutes earlier. "… Your Highness knows well where my loyalty lies," he finished, placing his knight in the bishop's place. "Your enemies are mine as well. If someone in this palace should view me as a threat, that is High General Vulneraria. Never you."
There were a few moments of silence. The queen looked down at the fallen bishop for a moment before looking back up at him. Their gazes met, and Quercus leant forward. "Your queen can eat my knight now," he said "just as easily as you could have me crushed with one word, any moment. The question is: will it?"
She stared back at him for a few more moments before her lips curled in a smirk. "Sometimes I think I have your figured out, General. I do, for the most part. But there are other times when I'm convinced there is something to you that escapes me. Is there?"
"Perhaps. But it is nothing you should be concerned about. You have no reason to be."
She chuckled, leaning forward as well. "Oh, I know. You wouldn't be allowed inside my quarters otherwise – let alone armed, with no guards to stand in your way, and an escape route ready," she added, briefly tilting her head toward the fireplace. "You have my favor, and you need to keep it – you need me."
Quercus chuckled. "Your Highness has me figured out more than enough, I believe," he said.
She leant a little further forward. "As much as it's necessary."
"And isn't it enough?"
"Not quite enough to sate my curiosity, no," she answered, her eyes wandering on his face as though searching for something. He couldn't tell what she was looking for, nor whether or not she found it – all he knew was that after a few moments she stood and walked away from the table and the chessboard, moving closer to the fireplace. For a few minutes there was silence, with her staring at the fire and Quercus just sitting still, staring at the deep shadows cast by the fire on her face and waiting for her to speak.
"Will you stay for the night?" she finally asked, her voice even.
Even though Quercus knew she couldn't see him, he nodded before standing and walking up behind her. He put his hands on her shoulders, felt the warmth of her skin through the silk, breathed in the scent of her hair.
"If Her Highness wishes me to, yes."
A soft, almost inaudible chuckle escaped her. "I do. Do you?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
"General Alba! My, it's a pleasure to see you here – I'm glad you could come."
Quercus pasted a smile on his face when he saw the High General walking up to him, holding out his hand, and he held out his own hand to shake it. "Thank you, sir. I certainly didn't want to miss this. Your invitation was appreciated as it was unexpected."
"You're most welcome. As I said, we should have got to know each other a long time ago," the older man said, escorting him through a long and luxurious hallway. "I hope my home meets your standards."
"It actually by far exceeds them, sir," Quercus said with a brief laugh. "When I'm not at the palace, my residence is at the barracks."
"Oh, that's right – you have no residence outside your room at the palace. I forgot about that… peculiarity of yours," Vulneraria commented. "You're an interesting man, General Alba."
Quercus was very much tempted to let him know there was nothing peculiar in a soldier living at the barracks and that so would he if he were a soldier in the first place, but he knew better than that. He gave a brief laugh instead. "I've spent more than half of my life in the barracks, sir – you could say my true home is wherever my troops are, and where duty commands me to be."
"Well, I supposed that's a good thing for Cohdopia: you're such a valid element that keeping you away from the battlefield would be a dreadful, dreadful waste. But let's not discuss of war now," he added, leading him through a door and inside a large and luxurious living room where Quercus could see at least a dozen generals from the High Command. "There is a time for that and a time to enjoy fine things, wouldn't you say?"
Quercus nodded in agreement before politely greeting the other guests, receiving their greeting in return. None of them looked surprised in the slightest to see him, and that certainly didn't not surprise Quercus, either: the High General had clearly observed him for a long time before deciding to approach him, and had probably discussed the matter with his inner circle as well.
"Very well then," High General Vulneraria spoke once the greetings were done with. "I do believe all of the guests are here, so let's not let the food get cold," he tilted his head to the door leading to the dining room and laid a hand on Quercus' shoulder. "I'm rather confident you'll enjoy the wine. It's the very best from the south of the region."
Quercus smiled. "I'm certain I will," he said, and followed him into the dining room like a good, loyal dog.
"Is it all?" Queen Luzula asked, propping herself on one elbow. Her other hand ran down Quercus' chest.
He nodded. "Yes, it is all. Unless you're interested in idle chats or in knowing whether or not I liked the wine," he smirked.
She sighed, but didn't seem surprised. "I see. Then again, it was to be expected they wouldn't go straight to the point. I'm sure they're evaluating you carefully. Expect more invitations, and keep it in mind your every move will be carefully scrutinized," she leaned her head on his chest again and closed her eyes. "But I'm certain you're perfectly aware of that."
"I am."
"And are you also ready to deceive all of them?"
Quercus smirked once more and reached to stroke her hair. "For my own good, that of Cohdopia and its queen's, I should hope so."
Queen Luzula cocked an eyebrow. "Nice to see I come last in your little list, General Alba."
"My deepest apologies, Your Highness," he said, sounding anything but apologetic. "Is there any way I can make it up to you?"
That got a small chuckle out of her. "Aside from accomplishing the mission I gave you?" She looked up at him with an amused glint in her eyes. "I can think of a few," she added, and those were the last words to be spoken for a while.
The first, real sign that Vulneraria had been fooled came months later, and it was so sudden that Quercus had barely the time to realize it before he had to give an answer to the High General's… suggestion.
Looking back, though, that day the High General was being friendlier than usual, insisting for him to take second servings at the dinner he was attending to – Quercus was rather sure all those dinners and lunches along with Vulneraria's inner circle were the reason why he was starting to put on some weight despite the constant exercise he felt his duty to undergo as an army man – and generally being overly pleasant. Then again he was often like that, so when the discussion had taken that sudden turn Quercus had been taken aback.
"Tell me, General Alba, how many units under your command are currently on service at the border with Zheng Fa?"
Quercus blinked, a little surprised by the sudden question in the middle of a talk about where they'd hold council now that the Council Room's pavement needed some fixing – but he was quick to recover. "Sir?" he asked, and he took notice of the fact all of the other generals had stopped talking. None of them was looking at him, but Quercus could tell that they were listening to every word – and he knew right away that it was finally the moment, that the High General had decided to make his move and see whether or not he could make use of him.
Finally.
Vulneraria shrugged at his question. "I was simply wondering. Since the situation has been stable for quite a while, I was thinking that perhaps we could reduce the number of men on stance there. I'm certain many of them would be glad to be back home after months of service, after all. Wouldn't you agree?"
Quercus gave a slight nod, not letting any kind of emotion show. "Yes, I do see your point, sir. Perhaps I should bring this up at the Council so that we can discuss reducing the number of men on service in the area?"
The High General shook his head. "Oh, no, no need to," he said pleasantly. "Her Highness certainly has enough worries already; I wouldn't want to saddle her with a decision on what is, after all, a rather trivial matter. Besides, that area is under your authority. You do have the power to take that decision autonomously if I agree – and I most certainly do," he added, as though he had just agreed to an idea Quercus himself had.
All too aware of the eyes that were now fixed on him, Quercus kept up an impassable façade – but inwardly, he sneered. The old man wasn't even trying to be subtle, was he not? What he was asking him to do was diminishing the number of units on the border with Zheng Fa with his consent alone and without informing the queen. Was it just a way to test him, to see if he'd comply like a loyal dog and turn his back to the monarch for good, or was there a reason behind it? Or was it both?
Either way, he told himself, he had to play along. He would look into the matter later – right now, he needed everyone in that room to believe he was on their side, that he had taken his place among them under High General Vulneraria's wing.
"If you do agree, sir," he finally said. "No, I suppose there is no need for us to bother Her Highness."
Vulneraria seemed extremely pleased by that reply. "Wonderful, wonderful," he said raising his glass a little before taking a sip of wine, and Quercus noticed that all of the other generals' postures had relaxed as well. "Do you think you could give me a list of the units that have been there for longer than six months? I'd say they have been away from home quite enough – we could move them in other areas, closer to home."
Six months? Quercus thought quickly, and realized that there were perhaps a couple of units that had not been there longer than six months. And that was not a surprise: most units spent up to a year in their assigned area, after all. That was something the High General simply could not ignore. What was he up to?
"I can already tell you, sir, that most units have been there for six months or longer," Quercus said slowly. "There are, perhaps, two units that have been there for only a couple of months. If we were to move all units but those two, I'd afraid we'd leave the border almost completely unguarded."
Vulneraria feigned surprise upon hearing that; he didn't make a bad actor, Quercus had to admit, but he could still see through that act right away. "Oh my, you're quite right," he said with a slight frown. "Well, that wouldn't do – our intention is to take exceeding units away from the border, not to leave it unguarded. On the other hand, it wouldn't be fair moving closer to home only part of the men who have been there for so long. What to do…?" he paused and rubbed his chin as though in thought.
And then it hit Quercus – he knew what the High General was aiming for now. For what reason he couldn't tell yet, but he was certain that little act of is was leading to one thing: replacing most men at the border with Zheng Fa – men under Quercus' command – with other units… units under Vulneraria's authority. That would grant Vulneraria almost complete control at the border… but why?
Well, Quercus thought, there was only one way to find out.
"I think there may be a simple solution, sir," he spoke. "We could simply replace the units we move with others. For example, one of the units on stance at the border with Zheng Fa is almost entirely made of men who come from the northern part of the Allebahstian region. We could move them there, so that they'll be closer to home…"
"… And move those who are there to the east instead," Vulneraria finished, his gaze brightening as though he had just heard that idea for the first time – as though that wasn't what he had been aiming to get to begin with, Quercus thought sarcastically. Still, there was some smugness underneath the surface that wasn't too difficult to notice; the old man truly believed he was on top of the game… and Quercus would let him keep thinking so as long as it was necessary. The surer of himself that man grew, the more likely he would be to make a mistake. "Now that is an excellent idea, General Alba. I believe I can think of a few units under my command that would fit the role just fine."
I had no doubts about that, Quercus thought scathingly.
"Then it is settled, sir," he said. "I'll let you have the list of the units that can be moved by tomorrow," he added. He knew he was technically giving up on most of his influence on the area, and that from the moment Vulneraria's units settled there most of the decisions would be out of his hands – mostly. Because there would still be two units left there under his command, and in one of those units there was someone he knew above doubt he could trust, someone who was going to be his eyes up the sleeve, his eyes and ears at the border.
It was time to give Captain Mormo, fellow hero of the war against Reijam, a phone call.
"… And allow me to stress out," Quercus repeated for what felt like the millionth time – but it bore repeating, considering who was it he was talking to, "that this mission is one that will require secrecy. You'll have to observe silently and report to me and me alone. Without being noticed, without drawing attention. Meaning no explosions."
A heavy sigh came from the other side of the line. "I understand," Captain Mormo mumbled, his Babahlese accent even stronger them usual. "But let me tell you, sir, that wars used to be more fun back in the day."
Quercus' lips curled into something resembling a smile as he remembered the battle he and that man – a sergeant back then – had fought side to side, along with Lieutenant Anteos Palaeno. Palaeno had retired to civilian life after the first civil war, but Mormo had decided that military life fit him best; thinking back of the man's gleeful expression while he set up the explosion meant to catch by surprise the army of Reijam, Quercus couldn't help but agree. Besides, the idea of that clearly unstable individual raising a litter or equally unstable individuals was worrying to say the least.
"Please, do refrain from talking like we're two old veterans," he finally said. "Besides, this is no war. It's simply a… let's say it's a precaution. And remember, breathe no word of this to anyone. I cannot honestly tell what would happen should you be caught snooping around, and I'm afraid I could do nothing to help you without exposing myself – and I cannot do that."
"That's no problem, sir," Mormo said, and Quercus could easily picture him shrugging; he had the habit of shrugging off most of what would trouble most people, and Quercus could admire that "I'll be silent, secretive and all that stuff. They won't even notice I'm watching. And I'll report to you and you alone should I see anything out of place."
"Good. Remember to call the number I gave you to report, and that alone," he added – it was the only one he was certain could not be put under control, simply because no one but himself and the Queen knew of that one line. "And always at the time I told you."
"Yessir," was the immediate reply. "No worries, you know I'm more competent than I look." Another laugh, then, "Say, sir, can I ask you if you've thought about giving me that leave I asked?"
Quercus chuckled. "Make sure not to set the barracks on fire in the next month, and you'll have it – whether or not you find anything. Now go and remember than this conversation didn't happen," he said before hanging the phone and turning to look at the queen – who, on the other hand, looked rather puzzled. "It's settled," he said. "He'll be our eyes and ears. Should anything suspicious happen among the troops under Vulneraria's command, he'll know it – and so will we."
She nodded, but still looked rather puzzled. "What kind of man is he?"
"Well…" Quercus hesitated only for a moment. "He's completely insane, for one, and has pyromaniac tendencies. And he's forbidden to handle explosive unless we're in war time."
Queen Luzula cocked an eyebrow. "That doesn't precisely sound reassuring," she pointed out.
"Oh, he's far from a reassuring presence," Quercus said, thinking back of when, as they waited for the army of Reijam to fall in their trap, he had feared Sergeant Mormo would give in to his glee and set off the explosions too soon. "But he's trustworthy, Your Highness, and competent. H's not afraid of putting his life in danger and, should he be caught, I'm certain he will not breathe a word on who sent him."
The queen gave a low hum, folding her arms on her chest. "And do you truly believe he may see or hear anything that may put him in danger? Do you truly believe Vulneraria is up to something? This may as well have been nothing but a way to test you."
"That's a possibility," Quercus agreed, "but I do believe there is something more to it, and keeping our eyes open cannot hurt. Let's say I have a gut feeling about this."
"I see," the queen said, and smirked. "Is it the same gut feeling that saved your life more than once in war?"
Quercus smirked back. "Yes."
Only a few weeks had gone by when Captain Mormo contacted him. And, judging by the way he kept fumbling with words, he was also rather enthusiastic over finally having news to report.
"Captain, for the last time, speak slowly," Quercus almost growled. "You're not of much use to me if I can't catch a word of what you're babbling. Again, what is it you saw?"
"Crates, sir. I saw crates. Piles and piles of crates. A lot of crates. You wouldn't believe how many crates-"
"Fine, fine," Quercus quickly cut him off. "You saw crates. I grasped that. Where were those crates? Who had them? And what was inside?"
He heard Mormo drawing in a deep breath, as though to calm himself, and to his credit he sounded calmer when he spoke again. "One of the new units, sir," he said, clearly referring to those under the direct authority of the High General. "I saw them carrying crates and stocking them inside a certain tent. None of those from my unit was allowed near it, sir. Orders from above, they said. But that wasn't enough to stop me, you know, General Alba."
Quercus chuckled. "I had no doubt. I take it you did approach."
"Yessir, of course. Snuck into the tent at the first chance I got. And I also managed to open one, and then close it again without anyone noticing. There were bottles in it, sir."
There were… what?
"Bottles?" Quercus repeated, blinking – he wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but it certainly wasn't that. "Are you certain?"
"Positive, sir. Bottles and bottles of whitecrystal oil. I recognized that stuff right away – my father and grandfather and great-grandfather worked into the mines for that stuff. I know what it looks and smells like."
Whitecrystal oil, Quercus mused, something finally starting to click – hadn't Vulneraria been rather adamant over keeping the amount of Cohdopian goods available for export to Zheng Fa low? Then why would he place his men at the border specifically to stock crates of the most famous product of the Babahlese region?
"And what happened to the crates? Are they still there?" he demanded to know.
"Negative, sir. They brought them beyond the border at night – I followed them until a certain point, then had to go back because they would have seen me otherwise. But they definitely brought the crates beyond the border, sir. Sir?" he called out as he received no reply. "Are you still there?"
Quercus – who had been grinning a bit too widely to even try speaking – recoiled. "Of course I am. Thank you for the information, captain; the help you gave me was invaluable," he said. Now he knew what the High General had been up to, why he did everything he could to keep commerce with Zheng Fa from being completely free – so that his little… business wouldn't have competition, or at least not much of it. And he certainly had accomplices in Zheng Fa, which probably answered the question on who had sent the assassin: Vulneraria's accomplices had, and Vulneraria himself had allowed him to get inside the palace.
No matter how partial the opening to commerce to Zheng Fa the queen had signed was, it still had damaged their little business, and they had decided they should get rid of her; after all, for Vulneraria it would have meant killing two birds with one stone, given how unwilling she had always been to let most decisions in his hands like her father had done.
But something had gone wrong, someone had stepped in the way – Quercus Alba. And Vulneraria had decided that having him as an ally would be more convenient than having him as an enemy. Not a wrong reasoning, but he had overlooked a detail: the queen had his loyalty still. Then again, with the small… act they had put up, it was no wonder he would grow to think he no longer did. Queen Luzula's plan had worked perfectly, he thought, and his admiration for her crafty mind went up, if possible, yet another notch.
"So, what do I do now, sir?" Mormo's voice snapped him from his thoughts. "I keep following them? Take one of the crates?"
"Wha…? No, no," Quercus said quickly, half-fearing that any answer that didn't start with a 'no' right away would result with Mormo running off to do exactly that. "It would be useless, and would only get you killed."
"Useless? But, sir, if I get one of the crates-"
"It would serve no purpose," Quercus cut him off. "The man we're set against is no fool; if we were to do anything now, we'd only have proof to take down a few pawns – but we wouldn't reach him. Not to mention that we'd give him a heads up. No, he has to be unaware of the fact I know of his business until it's possible to nail him. But this is something I'll take care of by myself. Your role ends here, Captain Mormo – there is nothing more you could do," he paused, then, "you fulfilled your role brilliantly. As always."
"Ah, shoot," Mormo muttered, sounding somewhat disappointed, but then he gave a brief laugh. "Oh well, it was fun while it lasted. Some excitement, finally. Not like old times, but almost, eh?"
"Close enough, I suppose," Quercus smiled faintly. "In a matter of a couple of weeks, you'll have the leave I promised you. It goes without saying that you're not to tell a soul what you saw and heard."
"I'll be silent as a grave. Good luck, General Alba, sir."
"I never needed luck but… thank you," Quercus said quietly before slowly hanging the phone. The sense of euphoria over finally finding out about Vulneraria's traffic was still there, but the knowledge he was not yet done dulled it. What he had said to Mormo was true – much more than a few crates would be needed to truly link High General Vulneraria to the smuggling operations with Zheng Fa… and perhaps with other countries.
How was he going to do that was something he couldn't imagine yet, but he had managed to accomplish far more desperate missions than that and he was sure he would manage, no matter how long it may take.
But, to his own surprise, it would take him less than a week to get his hands on documents that proved the High General's guilt on more things he may have imagined; an occasion handed to him on a silver platter by a man he had made the mistake to label as an idiot since the first time they had met, a man who had kept en eye on him while he kept both of his own eyes on Vulneraria. The queen's second spy.
General Durandii.
