The wind outside howled like a beast in mourning. From my balcony in Dreadfort's highest spire, I could see the skeletal trees bend under the cold breath of winter, their branches clacking like bones in prayer.
Below me, the war camps of the Demon King's army simmered with quiet purpose, discipline forged from fear and fire. But I saw more than tents and troops. I saw pieces. On a board. In my hand.
A soft knock broke the silence.
"Enter", I said.
It was Kaleid, his ever-serious face looking particularly grim today. "The scouts have returned. It's working. The Holy Alliance has begun turning suspicion inward. They've arrested one of their own on claims of treason."
I turned slowly, my eyes catching the flicker of torchlight dancing on the edge of my war map.
"Who?" I asked, even though I already knew.
"Captain Elthran. The one who questioned the reports. The one with too much pride to bow, too much reason to believe you were dead."
I almost laughed. Poor man. Too righteous for his own good. "And?"
"Public interrogation", Kaleid replied. "Loud. Messy. Their unity is cracking, just as you predicted."
"The sound of cracks", I whispered, stepping closer to the table where my parchment fortress stood surrounded by moving tokens. "Soon, the pieces will collapse inward."
Kaleid hesitated, his fingers curling over the edge of the table. "Some of the men say you knew Elthran. That he fought beside you before…"
"Before I learned who I was fighting for?" I turned to him, the warmth in my voice gone. "Yes. He stood beside me while they plotted my death."
I didn't care if he had hesitated that day. Hesitation didn't stop my comrades from leaving me to die.
He had his chance to speak. He chose silence.
I returned my attention to the map. "Has the prisoner spoken?"
Kaleid gave a half-smirk. "Not in words. Screams, mostly."
I raised an eyebrow.
"What? I didn't say we were gentle."
I chuckled under my breath. "No, I suppose you wouldn't be."
Still, my mind wandered. Not to Elthran. But to her. The old woman from the slums.
"A battlefield is not unlike a kitchen", she used to tell me, back when I was a girl with holes in her shoes and hunger behind her eyes. "You don't serve chaos. You prepare it. With spice, with timing. Let your enemies eat it too early, and they choke. Let them stew too long, and they grow suspicious. Serve it when they're most confident. That's when it kills best."
Lady Mirka. The Slum Matron. She taught me with broken chessboards and meals stolen from nobles. I owed her everything. And now, everything I had learned was being fed back into the flames.
I marked a red 'X' on the board near the eastern ridge. "We'll begin Phase Two in four days. Alert the shadow hounds. I want the Holy Alliance to feel surrounded even when they're alone."
"Yes, milady."
"Tell Varnak to spread rumors through the merchant routes. News of a mole in their council. Suggest it might be the saint's own attendant."
Kaleid raised a brow. "That's bold."
"Faith crumbles fastest when it's stained from within."
He grinned. "You're truly terrifying, Lady Ayaka."
"I'm simply honest."
Just then, a loud thump echoed outside the chamber. A second knock came, not soft this time. Bursting in was Zeff, the demon tactician with two broken horns and a habit of entering dramatically.
"You will not believe this", he huffed. "The humans are now blaming their own cooks. COOKS!"
I blinked. "What?"
"One of their commanders, Baskil, I think, choked during a feast. Blamed it on poison. They've arrested three chefs. I mean, really, chefs!"
I exchanged a look with Kaleid and burst out laughing. A rare thing for me.
Zeff folded his arms. "Oh good, you're amused. Meanwhile, our spies are being paid in burnt stew."
Still chuckling, I wiped a tear from my eye. "That… wasn't even part of the plan."
"It's delightful", Kaleid added dryly. "Unplanned entropy is a luxury."
"No", I corrected, "It's a gift. One we should use."
The fire crackled behind me, echoing the delight simmering in my chest.
I looked out the window again. Somewhere out there, the Holy Alliance, so proud, so righteous, was gnawing on its own tail. And they didn't even know it yet.
They still saw me as the one who broke.
But no.
I was the one waiting.
Waiting for the whole thing to collapse.
I turned back to the war table and whispered to myself, "The sound of cracks… how lovely it is."
And this time, I didn't smile.
I grinned.