The Ascendant Wizard

The city had not slept well in the days since the gathering.

What began with one dead man in an alley spread like cracks in a frozen pond. The church wasted no time sending its white-sashed men into every corner of the city, knocking on doors, turning over carts, questioning commoners and merchants alike.

Spies and traitors—that was the word they used. Men and women were dragged from their homes under suspicion, their cries echoing through the streets at night. Most returned days later, pale and trembling.

Some never returned at all.

It didn't stop, no matter what part of the city you went to, even the city's gates weren't exempt from such treatment. Caravans that once came and went freely began avoiding the city altogether.

Grain wagons lingered at the outer villages instead of pressing through the gates. Merchants chose different routes and decided to avoid the city outright, fearing the hassle and risk that would come from trying to enter.

The scent of suspicion clung heavier than smoke, and merchants, for all their greed, hated risk more than anything else.

Morena noticed the shift each morning on her walk through the estate, occasionally on her walks through the city's streets. Servants within the house complained about the rampant attitude of the church, fearing for the lives of friends and family who lived outside.

The roads were quieter. Taverns she passed on her return had fewer wagons at their yards and fewer people drinking. The most outrageous news was the one that spread the quickest: noble houses being searched, barged into without care or respect.

The city was folding in on itself.

Adolf stood by her study window one morning, arms crossed behind his back, voice low.

"House Estholm had their grounds searched yesterday. Officially, they found nothing. Unofficially, a steward was arrested. They're calling him a traitor."

Morena leaned against the desk, arms folded, her expression unreadable.

"What did he betray them for?"

Adolf's brow twitched.

"That is the question. No one seems to know. The man confessed to something, though what it was, they aren't saying. The house keeps quiet and hasn't made any statement about it."

Morena tapped her finger against the desk.

"Are they trying to use this to drum up fear and hold the houses in check? Something along the lines of 'we can easily make this one of you,' perhaps?"

Adolf inclined his head.

"Carrow was also searched. Their cousin in robes has been moved from the chapel. They claim it was voluntary, but... no one believes it. As for Marset, the inspections on his merchants have only grown heavier. He's losing coin daily, and he doesn't like it."

"And Brenle?"

Adolf allowed himself the faintest smile.

"Untouched. For now. I imagine her coin bought her some peace."

Morena hummed.

"Perhaps, I'm sure she hasn't been completely unbothered, though."

He gave a short nod before shifting the conversation from the nobles to more pressing issues.

"Merchants from the east have begun avoiding the city. Too many checks, too many questions, and a doubt about safety. Prices will rise in the markets if this continues, and we will suffer a lack of supply soon."

Morena looked over the papers before her, the ones that covered the logs and financial situation of the estate. So far, it was doing well, nothing great, but they weren't bleeding money.

However, the Ravenscroft House was not a merchant family. They did not earn their title through money, and while they had some shops in the city, it wasn't the main focus.

The Ravenscroft was a family of warriors, of soldiers. They had many people serving under them, patrolling the city, the walls, and the area around it; many mouths to feed.

Sooner or later, if the prices were to rise and supplies were to run low, they would run into problems.

"And worse, the neighboring cities already speak of it. Word spreads fast when it's about coin."

Adolf added, as she was lost in thought.

She looked out the window, the yard below alive with footsteps, servants moving around, and her sister training in the grounds below.

"It seems that this is the play they're going for."

Adolf raised a brow.

"The church..."

She continued, her voice low.

"They never fully cared about this heretic to begin with. This is all just a play to drum up noise, so that they could put pressure on the nobles and choke them out."

She paused for a second, recalling some of the previous rumors she had heard, all the way back at the hunting gathering. Her eyes widened as she realized something.

"This might just be the start; they're probably already planning to expand towards other cities. Start with the border cities; once they control those and the military might from them, moving inward will be easier."

"If that is true, my Lady, then it means war will be coming soon. Another one."

Morena didn't answer at once, her gaze staying fixed outside. She thought back to her father's words—strength buys you space to breathe. If that was true, then the church was already choking the city, and they were all caught in a net.

Adolf finally stepped back from the window, voice level.

"How long until they turn their eyes toward us?"

Morena sighed, closing her eyes as she did.

"They probably already have."

The days bled together after that, each carrying new tales. Another arrest, another search. Another noble whispering of who might fall next or gathering allies to stand against the church.

Morena kept her estate quiet, her men close, her circles close.

When she wasn't training or forcing the AI through another round of simulations, she walked the halls with Adolf, discussing everything he learned and handling matters of the estate.

They spoke often, more so than she spoke to her own sister or father recently. Though most times in code, never too direct, never too obvious.

Her father stayed out of sight, his health not steady enough to shoulder these matters, though she made sure to visit him often, made sure to have Marta take care of him.

Speaking of Marta, she had actually notified her about the previous poison attempt, having already worked out an antidote and a weakened version of it.

However, the matter had been pushed back because of how busy Morena had been; she told her to keep researching it and report back if anything stood out.

She also asked her to try to find whoever sold the poison to begin with, or the herbs used to make it. That way, she could be certain of her killer, even if she already had an idea of who it was.

By the end of the week, the tension had grown so sharp that issues began to arise in the city for common folks as well. Murders, robberies, and other worse crimes had begun to occur.

Some blamed the white-sashed for doing it, but the church denied all accusations.

That morning, she was seated in the quieter wing of the estate, a notebook open before her. She'd been writing fragments of various thoughts, possibilities, dangers, contingencies, all the things her mind could come up with, when the knock came.

"Enter."

A maid slipped inside, bowing quickly. Her cheeks were faintly flushed, her hands holding a folded letter.

"My Lady... this was delivered. From House Brenle."

Morena set her pen aside, reached for the letter, and broke the seal. The crest pressed into the wax was neat, deliberate. She unfolded the parchment and read, eyes narrowing faintly.

It was written in Lady Brenle's own hand, careful strokes that carried her thoughts with them.

Lady Ravenscroft,

I trust this letter finds you well. The city grows no quieter, and I imagine the church will not let its hand ease any time soon. All the more reason, then, to find moments where we may breathe outside their shadow.

If you are able, I would like to host you at my estate within the week. My fiancé is away on business and will not return for some time, so my halls are quiet. I think it would do us both well to speak freely—and perhaps discuss matters where our houses might find common ground.

I look forward to your reply.

— Lady Brenle

Morena lowered the letter, her expression calm, but her thoughts contemplated the choice.

An invitation.

Brenle had been watching her closely during the meeting, and their conversation in the hall had been more than polite chatter. This letter only confirmed what she already suspected—the woman was testing the waters, looking for something, perhaps more than one thing.

She set the parchment down and motioned the maid off, having her notify Adolf that she was calling for him.

Adolf entered not long after, his steady presence filling the room.

"You received word, my Lady?"

"Lady Brenle."

He raised a brow.

"An offer?"

"She wants me at her estate like she mentioned before. Claims she wishes to speak freely, says her fiancé is away."

Adolf gave a faint hum, neither surprise nor disapproval in his tone.

"She's not one to waste ink on pleasantries. If she's inviting you, she means it."

Morena let out a slow breath.

"I know. The question is, why? What does she want from me that she can't find in the others?"

Adolf folded his arms, voice low.

"Perhaps she sees what they don't, that you're not weak, and that you have the will to grow. Nobles love to back rising stars, so long as they rise in the direction they want."

"Or she wants to use me."

"Use and alliance are often the same thing. What matters is who benefits more."

Morena let the words linger, her eyes on the folded letter once again.

She thought back to Brenle's smile, her careful words, the way she leaned close in the hall and spoke as if no one else could hear. An invitation like this was both a risk and an opportunity.

Finally, she folded the letter closed and slipped it into her sleeve.

"Tell the servants to prepare. I'll be paying Lady Brenle a visit."