It was not unexpected, but seeing the truth laid before her eyes still chilled Kommora, despite the winter sun shining through the windows behind her. Liore's neat cursive, to the untrained eye, might have relayed details of her recent social meetings with her fellow old military school comrades, but to Kommora, the underlying message was clear: the king's mages had been selling Karma's runes to Hanna for at least two years.

The changes around them were subtle, but the rune output from Ospringe and Wainscott, the two main mass producers of runes, had remained unchanged over the past two years and yet the demands had gone up in absence of any significant technological or economic change. The runes were being ferried elsewhere, and now Kommora knew where.

War. They wanted a war. And they wanted Hanna to win. But why? They were already at the top of their powers in Karma. No mage opposed them. The king yielded to their demands. They pulled every string in the country. And yet they wished Karma to fall and its demon-wielding country to take over. What did they stand to gain?

King Mephis of Hanna wouldn't have agreed to this. This must be why they waited until he'd died and his son, Fautos, took over. Kommora wondered what the twisted, bloodthirsty son of Mephis must have promised the king's mages, who had no uniting qualities of their own and enough selfishness to last centuries, to make them abandon their own country and betray their own men together.

Kommora's sensors alerted her to their presence long before the clacking of their polished boots reached her ears. She straightened up and incinerated Liore's message with an altered orange rune, leaving no trace. There was a brisk, singular knock on the door. Kommora stood up as it slammed open. A long-necked, sallow-skinned man strode through. Behind him, Liore and Ash followed, flanked by more soldiers.

"Brigadier General Villin," she said, "how nice of you to visit."

"Mage Kommora Haigh," said the greasy-haired man whose presence made Kommora itch. Out of all the higher-ups in the military she had known throughout her career, he was the single one she'd been most wary of; not to mention he was also one of the few Ash had not been able to investigate due to the heavy security surrounding both Villin and his interactions with the king's mages. "You are under detention for suspected crimes against the crown."

Kommora's lips pressed tighter together just a fraction, but she ensured her face showed no emotion.

"You and your military personnel will hereby surrender your weapons and follow us to Department Thirteen. Anything you say now may be used against you in trials. If you struggle, we will not hesitate to implement corporal punishment."

"Of course we will not resist the orders of the state, Brigadier General," was Kommora's cool reply, but her heart gave a pang. It was only a matter of time. Most people were not on her side, after all, and they had ears everywhere. They had no evidence on her; of that, Kommora was certain, however it was not surprising they assumed she had a hand in recent occurrences. It couldn't have been anyone else.

Villin gave her a hard stare as she made her way round the desk, hands behind her back. He wouldn't handcuff her, not when she went without a fight. It would give Department Thirteen a bad reputation if they were shown to be underhanded, especially with someone of Kommora's stature.

They escorted her to the Council of Mages. The sweeping stairs into the marble structure might be grand, but Kommora knew of the dark secrets held there. This was the place that decided which mage was too weak or had questionable loyalty, whose research benefitted the military the most regardless of ethics, and where the king's mages hid. No doubt the damage done when the rebels rescued Halen Ashworth had been long fixed; she'd heard no word about the cause of the explosion that night. The king's mages would never admit they'd let a convict escape.

She kept her expression mild and her shoulders relaxed. Detention, they said, not arrest. That meant they had no concrete evidence of her involvement in anything until this point. She ran through the events in her mind. No, they had nothing to pin onto her.

Villin opened one of the conference rooms and shut it behind her, leaving her alone in the gilded room. The overhead chandelier glittered, the permanent yellow rune casting a soft glow through its crystals. The midday sun shone, muted, through the curtains at the far side. The polished wooden table gleamed, spotless. Ten chairs aligned on its left and right.

No guards. They didn't expect her to put up a fight.

The door to the far right opened and Zor Jarsdel and Rinoa Gruger entered, their royal blue cloaks sweeping behind them.

"Have a seat, Mage Haigh," said Jarsdel in a smooth voice, gesturing at the table. He and Gruger sat opposite each other halfway down the table. Kommora gave the chair a cautious look before sweeping her rainbow-lined black cloak out of the way and lowering herself down, keeping her back to the door.

"I'm surprised Butterworth isn't here."

"Domic has other matters to attend to," Jarsdel said, his unnaturally pale eyes fixated upon hers. Figures. Jarsdel was the second-in-command if Butterworth was absent. "I trust you are aware of the reason you are here."

"No, I can't say I am."

"You can play ignorant, Haigh, but we know what you're up to."

"I haven't done anything beyond my boundaries," said Kommora, raising her eyebrow. "I was hoping you may enlighten me to these 'crimes against the crown'."

"We have been observing you for the past few months. There have been several odd activities unaccounted for. Loren Rummage's trip to Finberry, for example."

"That silly girl's spontaneous trips are hardly in my control. I didn't even know she'd left until I heard the news of her attack."

"But you raised her like a daughter. You don't even feel the slightest anger towards those who killed her? No desire for revenge?"

"Of course I feel angry about her untimely passing. Any person would. But Gruger here has already taken over the investigation and I know the case is in good hands." Kommora couldn't help a slight mocking curl of her lips at those words. She knew Gruger must have caught it, but she made no response.

"Don't you find it odd that Rummage would decide on a spontaneous trip to Finberry? Without consulting you?"

"Rummage was twenty-six, hardly an adolescent. What she decided to do in her own time is not my business." It was obvious they wanted a reaction from her, for her to slip up and feel threatened. She wasn't going to give them that satisfaction.

"You're getting complacent in your old age, Haigh," said Jarsdel with disdain, looking down his bulbous nose at her. Kommora did not rise to the bait. "We also have noticed you moving around in areas you have not been assigned to."

"You have problems regarding my freedom to visit cities across Karma?"

"On August 2nd, you were in Danaway, were you not?"

Kommora cast her mind back. That was when Seiren Nithercott was sent to Danaway to quash the gang conflicts. What a ridiculous quest for a probationary mage -- only she hadn't realised then it would get more ridiculous.

"I'd heard about Rowan Woodbead's distinguished little protegee and wanted to see her prowess with my own eyes." She shrugged. "It was all just rumours, it turns out. That girl might be Kristen Harred's daughter, but she's only modestly talented with runes and the other aspects of her magic leaves a lot to be desired for."

"It was purely for that reason?"

"Yes. And it so turns out that little girl has a great tendency to get into trouble, well over her head. I hear she's stuck in Acrise now and the walls have been breached. It's a wonder she hasn't gotten herself killed."

Her comment had the desired effect. Jarsdel's jaw tightened and his thick brows knitted together. Gruger remained cold and indifferent. So Seiren Nithercott's tendency to survive idiotic ventures was more than just dumb luck. Interesting.

And she had a hunch about Butterworth's whereabouts.

"And what is your relationship with Rowan Woodbead?"

"I trust you know that already." Kommora's eyes glinted. Jarsdel narrowed his, stroking his neat, trimmed beard. "He was a close friend of Loren Rummage."

"That's all?"

"That is all. I have no particular feelings for that runt that disgraced his family. He has nowhere near the talents his siblings have."

"You appear unsurprised the walls of Acrise have been breached."

"You can say that. After all, they were protected by runes created by Kristen Harred, are they not? Her runes were breached once the night she died. It was just as well I stepped in--"

"And yet your runes were also breached, only last week."

"Oh?" Kommora kept her face impassive. Jarsdel coloured somewhat; it was hard to tell given the tone of his skin.

"The rebel mages attacked one of the council rooms despite your protection runes."

"How unfortunate."

Jarsdel's jaw twitched.

"Again, you appear unsurprised."

"Do I?"

"One would even suspect you wanted the breach to happen."

"That's a terrible thing to say. After all, Harred's security runes were breached once before, and once again in Acrise. You hadn't sought my help then. One would even suspect you wanted that breach to happen."

Jarsdel paled. Kommora chuckled, slapping the table.

"It's preposterous thinking, isn't it?" She grinned from ear to ear. "The untouchable Acrisian wall stormed by Hannans, the impenetrable Council of Mages wall breached -- and yet nobody on the outside knows! You would even say you king's mages supported the Hannan side!!"

Kommora gave a mirthless laugh, enjoying the freeze of their faces, including the impassive Rinoa Gruger.

There was a fourth person who chuckled, from behind her. Kommora's blood turned to ice. She turned around. A tall, broad-shouldered figure in well-decorated military uniform stood just before the door, deep-set green eyes staring back at her without amusement despite the white-toothed grin on his scarred face.

"Your Highness," she murmured, getting to her feet.

"That's quite funny, Mage Haigh. Of course, all this talk about treason is merely banter and nothing more, am I correct?" There was a dangerous gleam in Pollin's emotionally dead eyes. Kommora's throat tightened. There he stood, as she lived and breathed: alive. His voice was barely above a whisper, but the words throbbed with power. There was the tiniest flush on his chiselled cheeks from her words and his presence suffocated. Not under the puppet strings of the king's mages. Not dead.

"Of course, Your Highness." Kommora swallowed. Both Jarsdel and Gruger got to their feet and Kommora didn't need eyes in the back of her head to know they were about as smug as pie. She hadn't seen Pollin this close in years. The last up-close encounter had been over eighteen years ago when Acrise first fell to Hanna and King Kentin, his father, sought the highest-ranked mages' assistance to protect what remained of the borders. She had seen Pollin in passing after that when Kentin had passed away, eight years ago. Every time since had been from afar, for a fleeting second like in Danaway, or via a messenger, even when Pollin personally asked for her skills to recreate security runes in the archives on a par with Kristen Harred's after her death.

He had barely aged a day in eight years. For a man in his mid-fifties, this was a remarkable feat. The Miracles aged well; she recalled Kentin Miracle, the previous king, showing little signs of ageing aside from the slowly-greying hair well into his sixties. But the fact that he hadn't a wrinkle on his face and sharpness still stayed present in his eyes was quite perturbing.

"I'm glad to hear that, Mage Haigh. I wouldn't want to think a woman of your stature is considering treason or anything similarly concerning," said Pollin, completely deadpan. "Such actions can easily cause your own subordinates to be put to death."

The air left Kommora's lungs. Evidently there was more at play, enough for Pollin himself to threaten her.

"They have done nothing," she said in a low voice.

"Perhaps, but followers are often the collateral damage should their leader act irrationally. I trust this will serve as a lesson to you, Mage Haigh."

She could only stare into those bottomless dark green eyes, fighting to keep her breath even.

"Liore Ajax is henceforth sent to facilitate the border control in Cliffe. Ashwin Bread will aid the guards in Sarre central prison."

Exile. He might not use the term, but in practice that was what it boiled down to. Cliffe was a desolate place, an outpost used to ensure the wastelands in the southwest did not infest the land further into Karma. The climate was harsh and unforgiving. Sarre central prison held hundreds of prisoners at maximal security. Ash would never see the light of day again.

"And me?" said Kommora in a low voice.

The temperature dropped in the room. Pollin's eyes turned to green ice crystals.

"You shall stay in Benover like the good little mage you shall be. Without your eyes and hands, I shall hope you should stay out of trouble from now on. Let this be a warning to you, Kommora Haigh -- or you shall end up like Edgard Woodbead."

Her throat like sandpaper, Kommora dropped to one knee and took the king's hand before kissing his ring, her back feeling like it was aflame, yet her blood ran cold as the icy glaciers of Hanna.

"Yes, Your Highness," she murmured.

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