The late afternoon sun filtered through the tall windows of my study, casting long shadows across the room. I sat behind my desk, the weight of the reports before me pressing down like a physical burden. I picked up the latest one, skimming its contents, and felt a tight knot of unease form in my gut. Gareth, ever attentive, stood by, watching me carefully.

"This doesn’t make sense," I muttered, leaning back in my chair. "The King’s orders were clear—tighten security at the borders and stop the witches from escaping Valaria. But here," I pointed to the troubling line in the report, "royal guards, visiting the borders to collect witches? Why?"

Gareth stepped closer, his brow furrowed in thought. "It’s odd, Your Grace. If the goal is execution, it could be done at the borders. There’s no need to move them."

I nodded, trying to piece it all together, but the picture remained blurred. "Exactly. But according to these reports, they’re collecting the witches, not killing them. Where are they taking them, and why?" I couldn’t ignore the rising tide of doubt, but I had to tread carefully. "I won’t jump to conclusions. The King must have his reasons, but something about this feels... wrong."

Gareth tilted his head slightly, thinking it over. "Could there be another order, one we’re not privy to? Something the King hasn’t shared with the Dukes?"

The possibility gnawed at me, but I couldn’t afford to let my loyalty waver without cause. "If there is, we weren’t informed. We’re being kept in the dark, and that doesn’t sit well with me. Still, I won’t question the crown without more proof. We need to know more before we act."

Before Gareth could respond, a sharp knock on the door interrupted our conversation. I turned toward the sound, irritation flickering through me.

"Come in," I called out, a little more sharply than I intended.

The door opened to reveal Lady Evelyn. She glided in with her usual poise, carrying a small parcel wrapped in fine cloth. Her expression was calm, but there was a hint of urgency in her eyes.

"Your Grace, a parcel has arrived for you," she said, dipping her head slightly as she placed it on my desk. "From Prince Rodrick."

Rodrick? My initial annoyance gave way to curiosity. I reached for the parcel, untying the cloth to reveal three ledgers nestled inside. I exchanged a glance with Gareth, then noticed a folded letter tucked alongside them.

Ledgers? What is Rodrick up to now? Also it looks like there is one ledger missing.

 I unfolded the letter and began to read it aloud, the words pulling my focus tighter with every sentence. 

"Cedric, I’ve come across some unsettling information that I believe requires your attention. These ledgers contain records of the witch raids, but there is something odd about them. After the second raid, no female witches were recorded—only men. The question arises: where are the women?"

The words hung in the air like a storm cloud ready to break. I quickly opened one of the ledgers, flipping through the entries. Gareth and Lady Evelyn watched as I pored over the records, my unease deepening.

I reached for the second ledger, my pulse quickening as I confirmed what Rodrick had written—no female witches listed after the second raid. But something was still missing, a glaring gap that I suspected was due to the absence of the third ledger in the sequence I had just received.

"The Prince is right," Gareth said, peering over my shoulder. "It’s as if the women simply vanished after that raid. But where could they have gone?”

I didn’t have an answer, only more questions. Rodrick’s skepticism of the witch hunts was no secret, but I had always trusted the King’s judgment, even when it was hard. Now, though... now, I wasn’t so sure.

I continued to read the letter, my voice lowering as the implications began to take root.

"I will be investigating this matter discreetly, Cedric, until I know what is really going on. Be cautious and trust no one. Whatever this is, it reeks of treachery."

I folded the letter slowly, my thoughts a tangled mess of loyalty, duty, and growing suspicion. Rodrick’s concerns echoed in my mind, but I couldn’t afford to let them overwhelm me. Not yet. I needed more proof before I could act.

"This finding raises even more suspicion about the witches being moved to the capital," I said, turning to Gareth. "But we need to proceed carefully. Rodrick might be onto something, but I won’t act on speculation alone. We’ll dig quietly and see what we can uncover."

Gareth nodded, understanding the delicate balance we had to maintain. "I’ll ensure our informants look into this as well, Your Grace. If there’s a conspiracy, we’ll uncover it, but we’ll do so carefully."

I nodded, my resolve hardening. "Indeed. We’re dealing with forces that could tear this kingdom apart. I trust Rodrick, but until I know more, we’ll keep this investigation quiet."

As the conversation ended, I felt the weight of the situation settle on my shoulders. The mystery of the missing witches and the actions of the royal guards would be brought to light, but only when I had the full picture. Until then, I would walk the tightrope of loyalty and suspicion, hoping I wouldn’t fall before the truth was revealed.

Meanwhile in Prince Rodrick's Study

Evening had settled over the palace, casting long shadows across Prince Rodrick’s study. He sat at his desk, absently turning the quill in his hand as his thoughts wandered far from the royal duties piled in front of him. The ledgers, the witch hunts, the disappearances—it all gnawed at him. But more than anything, his mind kept circling back to Cedric.

“The parcel should have reached him by now.” Rodrick's brow furrowed as he considered the implications. “Perhaps, just perhaps, this will be enough to make him start questioning. He’s too loyal, too focused on duty... but even he can’t ignore the facts forever.”

Rodrick knew better than to dig too openly. Directly confronting the King’s advisors about the missing witches would be too risky. Word would travel fast, and before long, the King himself would hear of it. “No,” he thought, “I need to tread carefully. These ledgers—they’re the key. They have to be.”

He leaned back in his chair, letting his gaze drift to the window where the moonlight filtered through the curtains. He had noticed odd entries in the ledgers, discrepancies that couldn’t be explained away by simple clerical errors. The witch hunts had become a macabre routine, but the records didn’t add up. The raids showed bodies of the executed men, but where were the women? It was a question that had been gnawing at him for some time now.

“If I can find out where those ledgers disappeared to, I might be able to trace where those women went—or what happened to them.” He didn’t dare speak of his suspicions aloud. He had tried to hint at it before, but Cedric’s loyalty to the crown—fueled by the tragedy of his father’s fate—was a wall Rodrick couldn’t easily break through. “But this time… this time, he has to see it.”

He sighed, feeling the weight of the secrets he carried. It wasn’t just the witches that troubled him, but the idea that something much darker was at play. Yet, he knew better than to jump to conclusions. “One step at a time,” he reminded himself. “First, I need to understand the truth about these hunts.”

As the night wore on, Rodrick decided to retire to his chambers. But as he made his way through the dimly lit corridors, the garden’s path drew his attention. He took the long way, a habit of his when he needed time to think, but tonight something unusual caught his eye.

Near the fountain, two cloaked figures stood, their hoods pulled low over their faces. Rodrick immediately slowed his pace, instinctively stepping into the shadows of a nearby pillar. 

“What are they doing here at this hour?” he wondered, peering out just enough to observe.

The figure in the brown cloak handed something—a letter?—to the one in black. The exchange was quick, practiced—too practiced. 

“Odd,” Rodrick thought, narrowing his eyes. “Who meets in the gardens at this time of night?”

The figure in black turned to leave, and as the hood fell back slightly, Rodrick’s breath caught in his throat. “Lucian?” It was unmistakable—his brother, the Crown Prince, sneaking around in the dead of night. 

“What are you up to, Lucian?” Rodrick thought, his heart pounding. “You’ve never been one for subtlety, so what’s changed?”

As Lucian made his way toward the corridor leading to the royal chambers, Rodrick ducked back, making sure he wasn’t seen. 

“He’s heading toward the Empress’s chambers...” Rodrick’s mind raced, trying to piece together what he had just witnessed. “This can’t be a coincidence, but what could he possibly be doing?”

He followed at a safe distance, watching as Lucian entered the Empress’s chambers. Rodrick hesitated, unsure of what to make of this. 

“I need to know more,” he decided, but the time wasn’t right to act. Not yet. 

He lingered in the shadows a moment longer before finally turning back toward his own chambers. The night had provided more questions than answers, and his unease grew with each passing moment. 

“Whatever Lucian’s involved in, it’s just as suspicious as everything else happening in this palace. But I can’t lose focus—I need to understand the truth about these witch hunts first.”

With that thought grounding him, Rodrick resolved to dig deeper, but quietly, cautiously. He couldn’t afford to tip his hand, not until he had more concrete evidence. And above all, he hoped that Cedric would begin to see things the way he did—before it was too late.