Viktor's Wrath

The cabin door creaked open, letting in a gust of bitter winter air. It cut through the warmth like a blade, scattering embers in the hearth. For a moment, the room held its breath.

Baron Edric stepped inside.

His presence alone shifted the weight of the room…quiet command, heavy with intent. He didn't remove his gloves or shake off the snow. He simply looked.

Beside him came Joren, his breath uneven, a faint tremor in his limbs. Snow clung to his shoulders, melting into the edges of his cloak. He closed the door carefully behind them, the latch clicking into place.

Kaavi straightened but didn't move from his place near the fire. His eyes met Edric's and held.

"You're certain?" Edric asked, voice low…not suspicious, not aggressive. Just… tired. As if he already knew the answer and wished it weren't true.

Kaavi didn't hesitate. "Yes, I am. She's been inside your territory for years. Blends in. Listens. Remembers. She's not a spy who crept in…she's one who was allowed to stay. And most importantly she is trusted."

The baron's jaw tightened. No outburst, no disbelief…just a long, slow exhale.

"Midwife," he repeated, quietly. "I remember when she first came to Branwyke. She delivered my nephew's son. Brought herbs when my steward's daughter fell ill." A pause. "She was kind."

Kaavi's gaze softened, just a little. "She may have been. Or she may have only seemed to be. We do not know, we will find out soon enough."

Across the room, the fire popped, sending a plume of sparks curling into the air. The prisoner chained to the wall didn't flinch. He sat slouched, blood drying at the corner of his mouth, face a mess of bruises. He looked up slowly, eyes glinting with amusement.

"I see we've gathered the whole family, here." he rasped, the words dragged through cracked lips.

Joren turned away. Veyl's fists were clenched at his sides. Gavril hovered near the shadows, silent, watching. Viktor stood near Kaavi, his breath shallow, his face unreadable.

Kaavi stepped closer to Edric. "Joren wasn't there when we pieced it all together," he said quietly. "And this one… he didn't just act on orders. He relished it."

Edric's eyes didn't leave the prisoner.

"He led the burning of Elm Hollow," Kaavi said, and his voice no longer held the gentleness it had shown moments before. "He locked families inside the granary and set fire to the doors. He sold their children to merchants out of East cliff. Those who fought back…" He stopped. Not because he didn't know what to say, but because saying it again felt like dragging open a wound.

The baron didn't blink.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of wind scraping against the outer walls.

Then the prisoner laughed…a dry, broken sound that came from deep in his chest.

"Ah… now you come with steel and speeches," he wheezed. "Where were you, Baron, when your noble flags waved above burning homes? Or is it only murder when you don't benefit from it?"

No one answered.

The prisoner leaned his head back against the stone wall, closing one swollen eye. "You think they sing songs about you? They curse your name in places you've never bothered to visit. You think killing me fixes that?"

Edric didn't move.

The prisoner opened his other eye. "Go on then. Be the hero."

The sword slid from its sheath with a soft whisper.

Viktor didn't see Edric draw it. It was that fast…calm, precise, as if he were reaching for a pen instead of a weapon.

The blade gleamed in the firelight.

The prisoner's grin faltered. Just for a second.

Edric stepped forward and lowered the tip to the space just beneath the man's ribs. His voice, when he spoke, was almost soft.

"I don't care what they sing. And I don't care if they curse me. But I *do* care about my people and truth."

The prisoner blinked.

"And you," Edric finished, "have none."

He pushed the blade forward.

No anger. No dramatic flair. Just cold, final motion.

The prisoner gasped…sharp, wet…and his body jerked once before going still. Blood pooled slowly beneath him, seeping into the floorboards.

No one spoke.

Edric held still a moment longer, then pulled the sword free. With a practiced flick of his wrist, he sent the blood scattering across the ground in an arc that glistened and disappeared in the dim light.

The steel slid home with a soft *click*.

It was over.

But the silence lingered.

Veyl hadn't moved. His face was pale, jaw clenched tight. His eyes…too young for this…were fixed on the body, but his thoughts were far away.

Edric turned to him gently. "Don't carry this longer than you have to."

Veyl didn't answer.

"Revenge and justice are different things," Edric added, softer now. "One festers. The other ends."

Still no response. But Veyl gave a faint nod, and that was enough.

Kaavi broke the silence. "We need to act before she vanishes. The midwife, she is sharp. She might have noticed the disappearance of her fellow spies and might know we've tightened the net."

Edric looked toward the fire, then back at Kaavi.

"She moves through the market in daylight, near the stone bridge," he said. "But after sunset, she's been seen near the old apothecary. Slips into alleys no one dares follow."

Kaavi's brows furrowed. "Who's watching her?"

"A friend," Edric replied. "He's discreet."

Kaavi nodded slowly. "Then we move at first light. No mistakes. No delays."

Outside, the wind rose, howling through the trees.

Inside, the fire burned low, casting long shadows across the walls.

The execution was done.

But in the hearts of those present, something heavier had just begun.