Chapter 2

As Caligo paced around in his cell, he continued to wonder where his plan could have possibly went wrong. He recalled his faithful mole within the Royal Guard, and the communications leading up to the afternoon riot.

Caligo was almost giddy when he was riding aboard the Vestal Destroyer towards Zenoheld's supposed resting place: he had the deck stacked in his favour up in space, and after a few choice words, it appeared that Demophilius would meet his end back on Vestal. Then, when the dust settled, Vestal would welcome King Caligo Profunda Hestia.

…

On Vestal, everything was getting into place. The "protesters" who were prepared to accost the palace were utterly loyal. Not just to Caligo as a person, but to his vision, to his beliefs, and his own future plans. They believed in him. They believed in the future that he wanted to craft.

They were sick of the squabbling that had consumed all of Vestal like a plague. Sure, things nowadays were nothing like they were soon after Zenoheld left the planet, but with a mere regent in charge, things on Vestal didn't work smoothly. The massive bureaucracy that Zenoheld maintained now worked like a machine with faulty parts. The return to form that Caligo promised was like a breath of fresh air for them. And, of course, some of them had been offered positions of power once Caligo's promised Vestal Empire redoubled its colonization of New Vestroia.

Denholm, Caligo's little mole within the Royal Guard, scouted the hallways and doors, walking with confidence and blending in where he needed to. He glanced around in careful observation, studying his surroundings carefully.

He clenched his fists by his sides and quickly slipped around a corner when some of Xenia's additions to the Guard came walking down the hall. Captain Makhaira made sure to drill those newbies well as to the standard patrol routes; they would have known that he was out of place. Denholm breathed uneasily and quickly forced himself to calm down after Xenia's guards passed by without spotting him.

He had to stay calm. Panic would only be a liability.

He couldn't act as if he was doing anything outside the norm.

He continued on his way, observing every possible route that could be taken, and he was satisfied to see that it wouldn't be too complicated once the "protesters" started making their ruckus.

Pacing around for a while longer, he finally decided that it was time to get in touch with Caligo and let him know that things were ready to proceed. Admittedly, he was a little tense about talking with Caligo again, but he naturally wanted to ensure, above pretty much anything else, that the duke was kept pleased.

It was bad enough to merely miss out on a prize because you didn't prove yourself as sufficiently worthy or capable. However, it was arguably even worse to outright lose and then suffer because of that. Denholm didn't doubt that Caligo would have some sort of awful punishment to deliver upon him if he did mess up, as things were so tentative at the moment. Everything had to be done to perfection, or else it would be a mess, and that was the last thing that Caligo needed or wanted.

Still, Denholm hoped that the news that he was about to deliver would be of some benefit. He made sure he was alone and unobserved before pulling out his communication device.

Despite being alone, he turned the volume down as well upon activating the screen. Caligo could get carried away, and there was no sense in being well-hidden only to get busted because someone heard a noble yelling over a communication device.

He regained his mettle just in time for Caligo to answer the hail.

"…How are things going?"

"I'm ready to send the signal, but first I'm going to make sure I definitely know where Demophilus is."

He could practically feel Caligo rolling his eyes on the other end of the line.

"Fine. Just make sure that this all goes smoothly. You know as well as I do how important this is. Deal with the prince and get out of there immediately afterwards. Word cannot get out that a Royal Guard was involved."

"I understand, Your Grace. I won't let you down."

Caligo's lip curled on the other end. "…I know you won't. Because if you do, you will severely regret it."

"Your Grace?" he questioned.

Caligo merely let out a smug chuckle. He could tell by the wavering in Denholm's voice that the guard was unsettled by what he had just said.

"Remember," Caligo said, "Once you deal with Demophilus, you need to get out of there at once. If word gets out that a Royal Guard was involved, that will put me in a tricky position."

"...I was going to…make a plan on the fly," Denholm answered. The moment he said it, he knew he had made a mistake.

"Make a plan 'on the fly'!? After all the planning that we've done, you're leaving your escape to chance?! Pray tell, what manner of plan is that!?"

The mole winced. "I apologize. I will…think of something."

At that point Caligo had to take a breath of his own. He needed to compose himself at first, since he wasn't quite sure what to say. Yet eventually he seemed to come up with something; the smile on his lips indicated that quite clearly.

"I hope that you aren't getting cold feet, are you? Or perhaps it's the accelerated timetable getting to you. We have already gone over this. Wasn't it you yourself who found the palace's sally port? I really shouldn't be the one coming up with these ideas, but all I care about at this point is getting what I want."

Denholm didn't know whether to take Caligo's words as a life preserver or a rebuke.

His eyes widened as he remembered the secret exit—the "sally port"—that he had stumbled across not too long ago. Even though this was currently Xenia's summer palace, the palace itself had been built during a more tumultuous period in Vestal history. Palaces of the time often had inconspicuous side or back exits that the occupants could use in time of conflict. The hope was that with Xenia off-planet, Demophilus would not know of the location of the exit. The Royal Guard was apparently unaware of the exit—at the very least, Captain Makhaira never covered it during training—and the March Guards, more used to Margrave Medus's residence than to the summer palace, would hopefully place more of their focus on more obvious escape routes once they figured out that Demophilus was dead.

"You are correct, Your Grace. The timeline must have gotten to me. I apologize for my lapse in thought."

After the call concluded, he went on his way down the hall, and finally came across a door ajar. He didn't dare peek inside for the moment, because he didn't want to be spotted and suspected. However, he lingered somewhere close and simply listened.

That was when his ears picked up on something promising. Voices he actually knew and recognized.

One of those voices belonged to the very one whom he needed to kill off.

Demophilus.

Now here he was, smirking again, devilishly so. As that smirk split into a grin, the mole picked up his communicator, but it wasn't Caligo that he was calling this time. He was calling his co-conspirators within and without the palace, who were all awaiting his signal.