Chapter 9.1

Eirwen took a few moments to gather herself back together. She then returned to the pile of letters in front. True to her word, Vicomtesse Pertrellan had delivered a set of formal apology letters from several of the knights. Eirwen felt it was a silly act, but owed it to them to at least read the letters. Additionally, the tone could help her figure out who was mostly performative and who actually realised their wrongs.

With the last letter read, she opened one of the drawers of the desk, taking out a stack of maps and putting in the letters. As her fingers brushed over a map of Carraig territory, something felt off. With a frown, she brought the map up to her face and sniffed. A few more sniffs made her frown grow only more intense. There were three different smells, extremely vague but present. The first the normal ink, the others... one she recognised as heat-triggered ink, but what about the other?

She lit a lantern and held the map close to it. But it barely impacted the map, she could only vaguely see the writing. This hardly seemed efficient, surely there was a better way to heat... Flamehearts. Of course. She carefully brought forth heat, holding it at the surface of her hand, then held it to the parchment. Ah, that worked extremely well. So many numbers, words, symbols. Scout lines, travel speeds, typical patrol sizes and timings.

Eirwen brought cold to her hand to extinguish the fire, still wary after how close she had gotten to a mana rampage the day before. The ink turned invisible again, but other text appeared instead. Ah, that was the other smell. Writing that needed a proper handling of cold mana to expose. It must have been how he hid things from even his father. There wasn't much, but combined with the earlier info, she could tell. This showed a way to sneak past security and get to Carraig Castle... Her blood chilled as she realised. This was his handwriting. He had researched how he could come after Ailbe if needed.

She went through the other maps, of both Flameheart and Verglas territories, and even details of estates, castles, fortifications. The same applied there. Fire to see how well protected things were, ice for his planned routes. She calculated, compared, measured with care. The numbers felt correct. A small strike force, like his personal guard, could likely have taken out many a noble from either side this way. Even her own security was detailed, with numbers closer to reality than she would have liked.

Having to constantly summon fire and ice took a lot of time and effort from her. She had almost finished going through the stack of maps, when four knocks came on the door. Eirwen froze, only now realising she had focused so much on the maps, she had let her standard observation of her surroundings slip. A quick check revealed Pertrellan and Bethan. She sighed from relief. "Enter."

The two entered and stood side by side. It was Pertrellan who spoke first. "Greetings, your Grace. The majordoma, Lady Róisín, visited to explain where we could find the sixth Duke's keys. She also told us of a hidden chest in this office. Permission to check?" In this office? Peculiar... No, wait. If his father barged in here often, it made sense the man had copies of all relevant keys, so he didn't have to break open the locks.

Eirwen nodded and the two sprung to action. They knelt behind the couch, Pertrellan lifting it a bit, allowing Bethan to pull a chest out from underneath. Pertrellan pulled out a keychain and opened the lock. Inside were multiple stacks of parchments, with each stack topped with portraits, one of them Eirwen's. Bethan leafed through a stack, letting Eirwen see that they were all portraits. Her curiosity got the better of her and she walked over.

Bethan quietly gave Eirwen her own portrait. She looked at it, her face looked harsh, cold. A great contrast to the painting on the wall. This one had been made during the war, then. She turned over the parchment, a basic explanation of her info and habits listed. On a whim she sniffed the document. She felt her blood chill as she recognised the scents. The two looked at her, concern on their faces. Her mask had slipped then.

"Put the chest on the desk, please. Help me check who is all in here." She walked back, quietly summoning heat and cold to read. The heat revealed few details, just an estimate of her mental state. But the cold, that result scared her. Her habits, an estimate of her current skills, how to break through and knock her out. Worse, ways to keep her from harming herself afterwards, written slowly, carefully, yet still shaken. As if the act of writing it had been too much for him.

The two put down the chest, both a raised eyebrow. She sighed and turned the portrait over to them. They read the back, Pertrellan's face growing pale, Bethan's red. The healer was infuriated. Eirwen ignored them and leafed through the other portraits. One stack of Flameheart nobles and their personal knights. The other two stacks for the Verglas nobility, knights, healers. And many portraits included worse than just how to take them out. It included information on their loved ones.

As Eirwen put the read documents aside, Bethan and Pertrellan snatched them up to read as well. A few documents later and they quit doing so, the contents just too personal for them. The only thing they were still willing to do was look for their own portraits, quietly waiting for Eirwen to reveal the contents for them.

Eirwen wondered how he managed. He had sat outside the office all night, quietly chatting with Sir Caerbychan. And all the while, he had known the man's weaknesses. Did he not feel guilt? And surely he would have realised she would find out. Did that not concern him, that they might find out what he had held up his sleeves? Or had he just resigned himself to knowing the truth would come out eventually?

They all stopped going through the stacks. Taking the opportunity, Eirwen pushed a few of the maps their way. By now, as annoying as it was, she had managed to let her mana linger, keeping all text visible a bit longer. They read the notes, their minds racing, quickly reaching the same conclusion. The three looked at each other quietly, none of them quite daring to break the silence.

It was Bethan who spoke first, her anger now subdued. "So just to verify, your Grace. These were obviously made with the help of spies, in a way that anyone caught could still make up excuses. The nameless left some notes just for himself, while others his father easily could have read as well. And judging from the private notes, I feel like he could have ended this war far sooner. Did I get that all correct?"

Eirwen found herself masking her emotions. "Yes, that sounds about right. And I suspect that if his father had found those notes, we would have paid the price for that. So he kept it from that filthy beast." She slanted her head. "I would need to go through things in more detail, but I don't think he actually used this, except for how best to beat knights in combat. A theoretical preparation that he never acted on. Peculiar."

Bethan snorted. She ignored Vicomtesse Pertrellan admonishing her and shook her head at Eirwen. "Nothing strange about it. He's made it extremely noticeable the past days that his heart still burns for you. Plus he may fight like a beast, but he still has his honour. Acting on this goes against everything he is. Well, was."

Pertrellan sighed. "This kind of complicates things, but it does touch on why we came to you, your Grace." The Vicomtesse looked Eirwen straight in the eye, her attitude no longer that of a subordinate, more that of a meddling older relative. "We've discussed things, and isn't it about time you at least somewhat forgive him, Eirwen?"