CHAPTER 184: ASH IN THE GRANARY

[Lavinia’s Pov—Imperial Palace—Dawnspire Wing—Lavinia’s Chamber—continuation]

The air hung heavy between us, silence broken only by the restless crackle of the fireplace. My hands trembled as I clutched the parchment, the black ink seeming to bleed deeper into the page the longer I stared.

"...Wasted grain?" The words left me in a whisper, as though speaking them aloud might make them more real. My eyes skimmed the lines again, heart tightening. "They’ve found carriages full of spoiled grain and food? And... all within two days?"

My voice cracked, and I bit my lip. "But why? Why would there be wasted grain and food at all? We inspect every shipment, every storage..."

Osric’s jaw flexed beside me, his shadow falling across the parchment as he leaned over my shoulder. The firelight caught the hard angles of his face, his expression carved sharp and merciless like a blade.

"It’s clear, Lavi." His voice rumbled low, vibrating with restrained fury. "Someone is turning famine into a weapon. And because you’re the one in charge of grain and trade, they’ve chosen the perfect target to pin it on."

My breath caught, the weight of his words dragging me down. I sank back into the sofa, parchment crinkling in my grip. "Food waste... it’s more than numbers on a page. It’s trust. If people believe I’ve been careless—if they think I’m letting children starve while carriages rot in secret—" My throat tightened. "It’s not just an accusation, Osric. It’s a noose."

For a heartbeat, neither of us spoke. His eyes, burning with anger, softened just briefly when they met mine. Then he straightened, movements taut with restrained violence.

"We don’t wait," he said, his voice a dangerous whisper. "We don’t give them a chance to spin this further. We go. Now. Before this rumor festers."

I nodded, clutching the parchment tighter until the edges bent. "You’re right. We need to see it with our own eyes. If we delay even a breath too long, it won’t matter what we say later—the story will already belong to them."

His gaze burned, fierce and unrelenting, and then he extended a hand to me. "Come."

I rose, the heavy silence of the room breaking as our footsteps echoed across the floor. Solena and Marshi, sensing the tension, hurried after us without a word. The corridor felt colder than usual, shadows stretching long with the torchlight, as if the palace itself was holding its breath.

"Where do we begin?" Osric asked at last, his voice steady, but I could hear the storm beneath it.

"From our place," I answered firmly. "The granaries that fall directly under my care. So we should start from the imperial kitchen."

***

[Imperial Palace—Storage]

I walked slowly through the granary, my slippers brushing against the cool stone floor, the heavy scent of grain thick in the air. Torchlight flickered across the rows of stacked sacks, neat barrels, and carefully sealed loaves meant for preservation.

I stopped at one sack and pulled the tie loose, dipping my hand inside. Golden kernels spilled between my fingers, dry, clean, and unspoiled.

"They seem completely fine," Osric murmured at my side, his sharp eyes sweeping over the storehouse as though daring it to reveal a flaw.

I nodded, brushing stray grain from my palm. "Yes... fresh. Well-kept. Nothing here suggests neglect."

The head cook stepped forward and bowed.

"Your Highness," he began, "As you ordered, we measure every sack carefully—every loaf, every barrel. We weigh, we count, and we record. Nothing is taken lightly. Twice a day, morning and evening, we inspect the stock. Everything is properly sealed and guarded."

I nodded, looking around.

He continued, "If ever a sack shows even the faintest sign of spoiling, we do not let it rot. We crush it down, feed it to the horses, or find another use. Waste does not exist within these walls, Your Highness. Not while I still draw breath."

I regarded him in silence for a long moment, letting the air thicken between us. The torches hissed faintly.

Finally, I inclined my head. "You have done well, Head Cook. Your diligence honors the Empire. But," I let the word hang like a blade, "I would still have you send me every record again. Every ledger, every tally, every signature. I want them delivered directly to my office, sealed by your own hand. No exceptions."

The head cook bowed, saying, "At once, Your Highness. You shall have them before the next bell."

I turned my gaze back to the neat rows of sacks, the barrels stacked with military precision. Everything appeared immaculate. And yet outside, beyond these walls, whispers claimed wagons of rot and waste had been sent under my observance.

A chill pricked my skin.

The rot wasn’t here.

It was somewhere else.

I walked down the neat rows of grain sacks once more, Osric at my side, Marshi and Solena trailing behind.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a ridiculous sight—Solena plucking a golden kernel of corn from a crate and offering it to Marshi. The big creature huffed, paw glowing faintly with divine fire, and in a puff the kernel popped into white fluff. Solena squealed and stuffed it into her mouth, cheeks puffed like a squirrel.

And Marshi was beaming with pride.

Osric and I froze, staring.

A long silence. We both sighed at once, exhaling the same tired resignation.

"So...divines are basically kids," he muttered, rubbing his temple.

I shook my head, lips twitching. But the fleeting warmth couldn’t smother the weight pressing on my chest. My gaze sharpened, sliding back to him. "What do you think, Osric?"

His expression hardened, that predator’s focus returning in full. "The problem isn’t inside, Lavi. The grain here is untouched—clean, well-guarded, fresh. Which means..." His eyes narrowed, voice sinking into steel. "...the food is being tampered with once it leaves these walls."

I hummed low, a bitter sound in my throat. "Then—"

But he cut me off with a faint, dangerous smile. "Then I will take it from here. We’ll track every carriage, every alley, every hand the grain passes through. No rat will crawl unnoticed."

Something flickered in my chest—pride, yes, but also unease. I stepped closer, lowering my voice. "Do it in disguise, Osric. Not as the heir of Everheart. Not even as my knight. As... no one."

His brows drew together. "Why disguise? If I walk with my banner, they’ll know I am watching. Fear is a weapon too."

I held his gaze, my lips curving with a sharper edge. "Fear makes them hide deeper. Disguise makes them stumble. We don’t just want them cautious—we want them exposed. I need to know who’s daring enough to turn hunger into a weapon, even after the taxes. This is bigger than a thief. Someone is... playing a dangerous game behind our backs."

For a long moment, he studied me. Then, at last, he inclined his head, the firelight catching on his scar like a brand. "Very well. I’ll become a shadow." He straightened, squaring his shoulders. "I’ll leave tonight. And when I return..." His eyes glinted, a promise sharpened to a blade. "...you’ll have names."

I allowed myself a small smile. "Bring me more than names, Osric. Bring me the proof to burn them."

He dipped his head once more. Then, with a rustle of cloak, he turned. Solena, as if sensing the shift, fluttered to his shoulder and perched there, cheeks still puffed with stolen popcorn.

And just like that, my hall grew colder as they walked out.

I clenched my fist, muttering under my breath, "Maybe I should just raise the tax to ninety-nine percent..."

"THAT WOULD BE DEVILISH, MY CHILD."

The deep, familiar voice echoed through the granary. My head snapped up. Papa stood at the entrance, one shoulder leaning against the frame, lips curved into a smirk that was half mischief, half fatherly pride.

I couldn’t help smiling as I hurried toward him. "Papa... what are you doing here?"

He reached out, ruffling my hair with his calloused hand. "I heard my daughter stormed into the imperial storage like a hawk chasing prey. When my child senses danger, I would be a fool not to come."

I threw my arms around him, burying my face against the sturdy comfort of his chest. "There’s something strange going on, Papa. Carriages filled with wasted grains and food were found dumped in the alleys. Someone’s trying to make the Empire look careless."

His body stiffened for a moment in surprise before his large palm patted the back of my head. "Good. I’m glad you acted the moment you saw the threat. That’s what a true ruler does."

I grinned up at him, like a child again. Papa’s eyes glimmered with warmth. "Shall we have a tea together?"

I leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially, "Can I have wine instead?"

His fingers flicked against my forehead, quick and merciless. "NO."

"Ow!" I rubbed the spot, pouting. "So cruel..."

Papa chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest as he draped an arm around my shoulders. Side by side, we left the granary behind, the faint scent of grain still clinging to the air.

A little break. Just a little break to breathe—before I drag the one who dared frame us into the light... and break them.