Seth's Viscountcy coronation ceremony commenced just as he had dreamed. But as human memory of dreams is fleeting, all Seth could recall after a mere quarter of an hour was the taste of the dream, not its substance.

Following the sequence of his dream, Seth flawlessly carried out the entire ceremony without noticing an additional figure in the crowd—a young man with long hair in a white suit, absent from his nocturnal vision.

As the king's sword touched Seth's shoulders, he was officially knighted and elevated to Viscount, his hands graced with a newly forged golden family crest by the court's artisans.

The subdued ceremony concluded swiftly, just as Seth had hoped. As the king was about to exit, Seth, amidst chatting with minor nobility, cunningly slipped a rolled-up parchment into the king's attendant's hands while the chatterbox noble was in mid-praise.

Sure enough, just as Seth approached the carriage at the entrance, the attendant hurried over to inform him that the king requested his presence.

In the company of the royal attendant, Seth entered the palace's inner sanctum, where he was greeted by His Majesty the King, seated imposingly upon his throne.

"You claim on this paper to report a matter of importance. Speak," commanded the king, his voice imposing from his elevated seat.

With impeccable grace, Seth genuflected on one knee, "Your Majesty, your faithful knight had the fortuitous chance to aid a young man grievously wounded last night. He claims to be a subordinate of yours."

Though all nobles knew the king's shadow guards in soft leather were watching them, in such a semi-public setting, Seth could hardly tell the king, 'Hey old timer, I found your spy.' Such bluntness would swiftly usher Seth out of this world.

He opted for the ambiguous "subordinate" – technically, any commoner hauled off the streets of the capital could claim to be a subordinate of the king under kingdom law.

The attendant certainly understood what had transpired. With a slight gesture, he cleared the chamber of servants and guards, leaving Seth alone with the lofty king.

A cold sweat ran down Seth's forehead as his heart thudded in his confined chest. He gambled—and it paid off.

"It was your manservant, wasn't it?" the king asked nonchalantly, "I would have come to know soon enough. You can imagine the consequences if you had not reported this."

"Your Majesty is wise. Your vassal is unflinchingly loyal to you," Seth's head dipped lower as his kneeling posture stiffened.

"Bring him in," ordered the king, raising his voice.

As the king spoke, the chamber doors cracked open, a beam of sunlight casting over Seth's back. The attendant led in the spy, now disguised as a manservant.

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The manservant stride forward, dropping to his knees, "Your Majesty, I bear urgent military intelligence."

Seth, feeling anxious in this place, quickly interjected, "Your servant shall take his leave."

"Wait," the king spoke, and Seth, halfway to standing, dropped back down as if hammered, "You saved the man. Stay and listen."

"As you wish," Seth thought to himself that there was little logical connection there. Wasn't this just throwing himself into the fire?

The capital's spy, seemingly unsurprised by the king's decision, started reciting his memorized report, "Of late, there’s been frequent military activity in the West. The majority of forces have been redirected to near the capital. There's also been some coercive procurement of grain from the civilians—nothing severe yet—just below market price compelling sales. All blacksmiths and carpenters have been conscripted; their workshops are turning away all orders."

"I was discovered by the West, and on my return, I faced several blockades. Within the capital's boundaries, I was attacked by an expert. To prevent the intelligence from leaking, I intended to hand over the shadow guard's insignia to this old gentleman to pass along to my captain. Little did I expect he's a noble soon to be ennobled. I owe my life to his benevolence..."

The king pondered for a moment before turning to Seth, who was doing his best imitation of a wooden statue, "Seth, I've heard good things about you from the holy knight of the church and my own captain of the black guard. Especially regarding you and your son. What do you think? With the Western territory amassing troops, whom are they planning to attack?"

I surely have an idea, but what should I say? In the limelight, Seth was somewhat at a loss, "Perhaps the North; there have been rumors of discord between the West and the North for decades."

"Really? I have a feeling he wants to show me his true colors," the king mused, stroking his beard, "Otherwise, why would he send men to attack mine?"

"This, that might be..." Seth's formal attire was damp with cold sweat, "Perhaps the Duke's men mistook your men for..."

"Enough!" The king addressed the visage of a man not much younger than himself, "Seth, my knight."

"Here!"

"Set off immediately. Return to your land. Should the West stir, lead your people in a pincer movement from behind."

"At your command!"

"Weren't you just stripped of a third of your lands? If the West dares rebel, I wouldn’t oppose you reclaiming some of what’s rightfully yours, with interest, from elsewhere."

"Understood!"

Seth had little appetite for war; all he wanted was to clear his father's name. But given the circumstances, he could only feign the demeanor of a warmonger as he responded loudly to the king’s commands.

Rising, Seth shot an unwavering gaze upwards at the king, then made his exit from the sanctum, heading back to the hostel alone.

To showcase his firm compliance with His Majesty's orders, Seth took his carriage out of the city at dusk. As he passed a narrow alley, a spry coachman hopped aboard and seamlessly settled into the driver's seat.

The shift went unnoticed by all but the long-haired man in white who watched closely from a distance.

"Quicker than I thought," murmured the West's spy, managing the carriage with ease.

"I would have preferred to stay longer, but His Majesty didn’t allow,” Seth replied, a hint of relaxation in his voice.

"He must have learned something," said the coachman gravely.

"Learned something?"

"Don’t play coy now. The king hurried you back to your estate; surely the West must be on the move."

"What’s your plan then?" Seth asked tentatively, tensing up, "If you let me return safely, you might be doing the West a disservice."

"You saved my life. I will not harm you," assured the Western spy, "So, might I ask you to remain neutral, or possibly to aid us?"

"Of course, no problem," Seth replied easily.