The rest of the morning quickly disappeared into a succession of silent preparations.

The library ceased to resemble merely an improvised center of aristocratic conspiracy.

Now it functioned as a war room.

Messengers began to discreetly enter and leave Damon’s mansion carrying sealed letters, simple codes, and fragmented instructions that would never make sense in isolation. No complete information circulated among a single person. Elizabeth had insisted on this from the beginning.

"If anyone is captured," she explained calmly while rearranging documents on the table, "no one should possess a complete overview of the operation."

Cherry observed this with genuine admiration.

"That’s paranoid in an extremely professional way."

"Thank you."

"That wasn’t exactly a compliment."

"Even so."

Morgana completely ignored the side conversation.

She had spent the entire morning reviewing the blueprints of Arven Manor alongside Cedric. They were discussing routes, recent changes in security, and potential compromise points while small metal markers were constantly being repositioned on the map.

Damon watched them from a distance for a few moments.

It was strange to see Morgana like this.

Colder.

More precise.

The pain was still there. He could see it in the moments when she remained motionless for too long or when her attention briefly drifted to Sir Halbrecht’s blood-stained tape.

But now that pain had been compressed into something functional.

She was transforming grief into strategy.

And that made everything more dangerous.

"Will the men from the west wing continue to cooperate?" Damon asked, approaching the table.

Cedric nodded.

"If they see Lady Morgana alive inside the mansion, yes."

"You seem very confident about that."

The guard took a deep breath before answering.

"Because many of them were just waiting for a reason." Elizabeth discreetly raised her eyes at that.

"That means the Duchess’s authority is already cracking internally."

"Even among the servants," Cedric added. "The kitchens are frightened. The servants have started sleeping in groups."

Cherry frowned.

"That’s never a good sign."

"No," Ingrivid replied, writing something in a small notebook. "People accustomed to living in large houses develop quick survival instincts."

Elizabeth rested her arms on the table.

"Especially when they start hearing screams behind the walls."

The silence that followed was brief.

But heavy.

Because no one there had forgotten what Cedric had said about the sounds coming from the empty corridors of the mansion.

Damon slowly returned his gaze to the map.

"How long ago did these noises start?"

Cedric hesitated.

"About two weeks."

"Before the disappearances?"

"Yes."

Elizabeth immediately grasped the implication.

"Then the Duchess’s behavior worsened afterward."

Morgana nodded slowly.

"She was already controlling before." Her voice came out low. "But not like this."

Cherry tilted her head.

"What exactly does ’not like this’ mean?"

Morgana took a few seconds to answer.

"She used to hide it."

That made the room even quieter.

Because everyone understood immediately.

The Duchess had stopped hiding it.

That meant extreme trust.

Or mental deterioration.

Perhaps both.

Damon ran his fingers slowly along the side of the map.

"We need to consider the possibility that she’s not acting alone."

Elizabeth nodded immediately.

"I agree."

Cherry sighed dramatically.

"Of course. Naturally, there’s a larger conspiracy. This was already looking too manageable."

Ingrivid completely ignored the comment.

"If there’s another arcane operator inside the mansion, our infiltration plans become much more unstable."

"Everything’s already unstable," Damon replied.

"Now it’s unstable and supernatural."

"Details."

Cherry immediately pointed at him.

"See? That’s exactly the kind of phrase that precedes historical tragedies."

Morgana finally turned away from the map for the first time in hours.

"It doesn’t matter how many allies she has." Her gaze hardened slightly. "It’s still my home."

Elizabeth observed this in silence.

Then she asked calmly:

"Can you still see it as your home?"

The question struck harder than any previous confrontation.

Morgana remained motionless.

For a whole moment, no one spoke.

Then she answered:

"No."

Her voice came out almost empty.

"But my father is still there."

That ended any discussion.

Damon noticed Cherry discreetly avert her gaze. Even she had lost some of her usual humor at that.

The morning progressed slowly.

At noon, new reports arrived.

Two influential merchants had discreetly suspended supply contracts linked to the Duchess’s private guard. A banker had refused to renew emergency credit for the maintenance of the mansion’s internal troops.

Small movements.

But enough for Elizabeth to smile for the first time that day.

"She’s already started to feel it."

Damon examined the documents.

"You’ve been spreading rumors."

"Naturally."

"Which ones?"

Elizabeth slowly twirled the empty goblet between her fingers.

"Just insinuations." Her smile became almost imperceptible. "Internal instability. Succession problems. Erratic behavior."

Cherry seemed delighted.

"You destroy reputations like an artist."

"Thank you."

"That’s still not a compliment."

"I disagree."

Morgana crossed her arms.

"How long until the nobles start to react?"

"Some already have." Elizabeth pointed to one of the open letters. "House Verden wants security guarantees in case of a change of power."

Cherry blinked slowly.

"They’re negotiating even before the coup happens?"

"It’s the aristocracy," Elizabeth replied calmly. "They always bet on both sides."

Damon let out a small, tired sigh.

"Vultures."

"Survivors," Elizabeth corrected.

"Minimal difference."

In the early afternoon, Ingrivid finally finished organizing the external routes.

Small red circles marked evacuation points around Arven Manor. Secondary passages, hidden carriages, safe houses, and discreet contacts scattered throughout the city.

Cherry watched with growing fascination.

"You really expected an urban war."

Ingrivid didn’t even look up.

"I expected aristocrats."

"Fair enough."

Cedric then returned to the library after a brief outing to meet an inside contact.

His face immediately drew attention.

Something had worsened.

Morgana noticed first.

"What happened?"

The guard closed the door behind him before answering.

"The Duchess gathered all the remaining men in the main hall."

The atmosphere shifted immediately.

"Why?" Damon asked.

Cedric looked uncomfortable.

"She believes there’s a traitor within the guard."

Cherry let out a small whistle.

"Paranoia is rapidly advancing."

"Did she execute someone?" Elizabeth asked.

Cedric nodded slowly.

Morgana stood motionless.

"Who?"

"A young man from the inner guard." The man swallowed hard. "She accused him of giving away information."

The silence became brutal.

"Did she have proof?" Damon asked.

Cedric hesitated.

"No."

Elizabeth slowly closed her eyes.

"Then she’s losing control."

"Or trying to keep it through terror," Damon replied.

"Even worse."

Morgana slowly looked away.

But Damon noticed immediately.

It had shaken her more than she wanted to show.

Because the mansion was ceasing to look like an occupied place.

Now it looked like a decaying, living organism.

Cedric continued:

"After the execution, she forbade any guard from circulating alone."

Ingrivid immediately looked up from the map.

"That complicates our internal movements."

"Not completely," Cedric replied. "The veterans are still pretending to obey."

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes.

"But?"

"They’re scared."

That word lingered in the air.

Scared.

Not revolted.

Not furious.

Scared.

And scared men made mistakes.

Damon slowly ran a hand over his face.

Time was truly running out.

Morgana approached the table again.

"So we went in early."

Everyone looked at her.

"How early?" Damon asked.

"Today."

Silence instantly exploded in the room.

Elizabeth was the first to react.

"Reckless."

"Necessary."

"You’re reacting emotionally."

"And you’re reacting like someone sitting comfortably far away from it."

The tension returned immediately.

Cherry watched the two of them like someone watching a storm brew.

Elizabeth held their gaze without flinching.

"If we storm the mansion too early without sufficient coordination, she’ll kill the Duke."

"She’s already killing people!"

"Because she’s seeking control."

Morgana slammed her hand on the table.

"She’s lost the right to keep breathing!"

The impact echoed through the library.

Cedric looked away.

Ingrivid stood motionless.

Cherry even stopped twirling the dagger.

Damon stepped forward.

"Morgana."

She was breathing fast now.

Control was beginning to slip again.

"She killed Halbrecht."

"I know."

"She destroyed my father."

"I know."

"Then stop acting like there’s still room for negotiation!"

"There’s no negotiation!" Damon finally raised his voice for the first time. "There’s survival!"

Silence fell abruptly.

Heavy.

Morgana stared at him for long seconds.

Then she looked away.

And that was worse.

Because Damon immediately realized what was there.

She was tired.

Exhausted.

Anger was the only thing keeping her functional.

Elizabeth seemed to realize the same thing.

Her voice softened slightly as she spoke again.

"If we fail tonight, Arven will descend into open war." She took a deep breath. "And his father will die first."

That finally hit Morgana.

She closed her eyes slowly.

Then nodded once.

Small.

Almost imperceptible.

But enough.

Damon exhaled slowly.

The situation had been dangerously close to collapsing.

Cherry observed everything in unusual silence before murmuring,

"We are an emotionally alarming group."

"No objection," replied Ingrivid.

The rest of the afternoon was consumed by final preparations.

Weapons were separated.

Messages sent.

Routes memorized.

Cedric drew from memory entire sections of the central wing of the mansion that had undergone recent alterations. Elizabeth finalized discreet agreements with two minor lords willing to publicly acknowledge Morgana should the Duchess be removed.

Everything was moving too fast.

And yet it seemed insufficient.

As the sun finally began to disappear behind the towers of Arven, the library plunged once more into that strange silence that precedes great catastrophes.

No one spoke much now.

There was no need anymore.

Everything had already been decided.

Damon watched the city from the window when he heard footsteps approaching behind him.

Morgana.

She stopped beside him, saying nothing for a few seconds.

Outside, Arven gleamed under the cool golden light of the twilight.

Beautiful.

Peaceful.

Ignorant.

"I used to watch this city from here when I was a child," she said softly.

Damon remained silent.

"My father used to say that Arven seemed eternal when viewed from above."

She smiled humorlessly.

"Now it seems fragile."

"Because it is."

Morgana finally turned her gaze to him.

"Do you really think we can do this?"

The question carried something rare. Not anger.

Not pride.

Fear.

Damon thought for a few seconds before answering.

"I don’t know."

She seemed surprised by his honesty.

"But I know that if we do nothing, she wins."

Morgana held his gaze for a long moment.

Then she nodded slowly.

"Then let’s end this."

Behind them, Elizabeth sealed the last letter of the night.

Ingrivid distributed small hidden blades among Cedric’s men.

Cherry checked crossbow ammunition while humming something absurdly cheerful for someone about to invade an aristocratic fortress infested with forbidden magic.

And little by little...

Damon’s Mansion was becoming the starting point of something much bigger than a conspiracy.

Because that night, while Arven lit his lanterns and feigned normalcy once more...

A silent war would finally erupt within Arven Manor.