Expansion The Infiltration of Malas | Expansion into Malas

[The Night Court]

The halls of the royal palace were lined with opulence—gleaming gold trim on high arches, intricate tapestries telling tales of Malas’ long history, and guards at every threshold. The court bustled with whispers and political maneuvering, none suspecting that one of their own was not who they seemed to be.

Celeste adjusted the hem of her borrowed uniform, her enchantment ensuring she appeared as nothing more than a dutiful attendant. The disguise was seamless, her features altered and her aura dimmed to blend perfectly among the palace staff. Weeks of careful observation had brought her here, embedded in the King’s inner circle, where secrets lay waiting to be uncovered.

Already, she had learned of the King’s growing paranoia—his distrust of his council, the fissures forming between powerful families, and the quiet murmurs of rebellion at the kingdom’s edges. Every piece of information was a thread to unravel the tapestry of Malas’ strength.

But gathering knowledge was not enough. Celeste’s task demanded more. She would subtly manipulate decisions, pit advisors against one another, and exploit every weakness until the court’s foundation cracked. The King, for all his power, would find himself surrounded by enemies within, and when Marcus’ Night Court moved to strike, Malas would crumble from the inside.

Celeste carried herself with grace as she entered the chamber where the royal council convened. She had only moments to deliver a message to the King’s closest advisor—a small note seeded with misinformation meant to stir distrust between him and another noble. Her magic kept her movements imperceptible to wary eyes.

The night’s work had only begun.

 

[Kingdom Of Espada]

High Chancellor Verrent adjusted his robes as he took his seat beside the King at the head of the council chamber. His silver hair, tied neatly back, reflected the torchlight, and his piercing blue eyes scanned the gathered nobles with calculated precision. Verrent prided himself on being the King’s most loyal advisor, a man who had navigated decades of intrigue to remain indispensable.

But tonight, his confidence faltered.

Folded within his hand was a note, slipped to him discreetly by an attendant who had vanished as swiftly as she’d appeared. The words on the parchment were alarming:

“Lord Wynth has been meeting secretly with the emissaries of Rellis. He seeks to strike a deal that would leave Malas vulnerable in the east. Beware his duplicity.”

Verrent’s jaw tightened. The eastern border was critical to the kingdom’s trade and defense, and Lord Wynth’s control of that region gave him unparalleled influence. If this was true, Wynth’s betrayal could spell disaster.

Clearing his throat, Verrent rose to address the council. The chamber quieted as the nobles turned their attention to him.

“Your Majesty,” Verrent began, his voice steady but urgent, “I have received troubling news regarding the loyalty of one among us. Lord Wynth, it is said, has been holding clandestine meetings with emissaries from Rellis.”

Gasps echoed through the chamber, and all eyes turned to Lord Wynth, who immediately rose to his feet, his face a mask of fury.

“This is an outrageous accusation!” Wynth bellowed. “I have done no such thing! I demand to know the source of these lies!”

Verrent held up a hand to silence him. “The source is of little consequence, Lord Wynth. The question is whether you can refute it. You hold sway over the eastern border—why would emissaries from Rellis not seek your favor?”

The King, seated upon his gilded throne, leaned forward. His expression was one of tempered calm, but his eyes betrayed a simmering distrust. “Lord Wynth,” the King said slowly, his voice carrying the weight of authority, “if these claims are false, you will have the chance to prove your innocence. But if they are true, you will have endangered the entire kingdom.”

“My King,” Wynth replied, his voice trembling with restrained anger, “I swear upon my honor that I have done nothing to betray Malas. Whoever has spread this falsehood seeks to sow discord in your court.”

“Perhaps,” the King replied, his gaze shifting to Verrent. “But the timing of this revelation is curious, as is its source.”

The chamber erupted into murmurs, factions already forming as allies and enemies of Wynth began whispering among themselves. Verrent remained standing, his face impassive but his mind racing. The seeds of doubt had been planted, and he was certain they would bear fruit.

Unseen in the shadows, Celeste listened, a faint smile gracing

 

[The Night Court]

Celeste slipped through the labyrinthine corridors of the palace, her steps light and deliberate. The air was thick with tension, the echoes of the council meeting reverberating through the stone walls. She had watched from the shadows as Verrent sowed the seeds of distrust, and now the nobles would be at each other’s throats, their paranoia festering.

But her work was far from done.

Her next target was Lady Arlissa, the Queen’s closest confidante. While the King relied on Verrent for matters of governance, Arlissa wielded influence in more personal, subtle ways. She was the Queen’s ear, privy to secrets even the King might not know. If Celeste could fracture Arlissa’s relationship with the Queen, the palace’s stability would weaken even further.

Disguised as a chambermaid, Celeste entered Arlissa’s private quarters. Her magic cloaked her in a guise so mundane that no one thought twice about her presence. The room was richly adorned with silken drapes, ornate furniture, and shelves lined with volumes of courtly etiquette and political treatises.

Celeste moved to the desk and retrieved a small vial from her pouch. Inside was a potion brewed with her own magic—a concoction that, when consumed, would subtly alter Arlissa’s temperament. It wouldn’t kill or incapacitate her, but it would amplify her insecurities, making her more susceptible to missteps and paranoia.

Uncorking the vial, Celeste poured the liquid into the goblet resting on the desk. The scent of wine masked any hint of tampering. Just as she finished, the faint sound of approaching footsteps reached her ears.

Quickly, Celeste slipped behind a tapestry, her form blending into the shadows. Moments later, Lady Arlissa entered the room, her expression tense. She moved to the desk, picked up the goblet, and took a long sip.

Celeste watched as Arlissa’s posture stiffened ever so slightly, the effects of the potion beginning to take hold. It wouldn’t take long for the cracks to show—snapping at a servant, second-guessing the Queen’s decisions, or questioning her own alliances.

As Arlissa set the goblet down and turned to retrieve a letter from the shelf, Celeste slipped out of the room as silently as she had entered.

Her work was methodical. One by one, she would unravel the threads of trust that held the court together until Malas was vulnerable enough for Marcus to strike.

For now, the royal family remained unaware of the wolf among them.