Renald had been many things... scribe, judge, mediator. But his true power lay in the spaces between those roles. A senior cleric posted in a river-side province, he was distant from the capital... yet far from irrelevant.
Renald coordinated the archives that kept verdicts sealed, debts hidden, and inheritances disputed just long enough for others to claim them. A man of records... and erasure.
He was the second name Zee chose.
Not the loudest. Not the most protected. But important... in the way that a hidden cog is important to a great machine. Removing him wouldn't cause collapse, but something would grind. That was enough.
They traveled light. No caravans. No markings. Three figures slipping through forest.
Renald's estate sat on a rise above the river... silent.
Three days passed.
His residence remained untouched. His bed, made. Office locked. No sign of struggle. No papers out of place. Just... absence. Not even dust disturbed. As if he had stepped out mid-thought and simply never returned.
By the fourth morning, Sevi stood near the outer wall, fingers twitching.
"Let's try something," she said.
The illusion aged her... stooped her spine, dulled her voice, clouded her eyes. A faded robe, a faded light, and the cane of a pious elder.
She hobbled through the side gate, into the courtyard, and approached one of the younger priests lighting incense.
"Excuse me, child... I came seeking High Scribe Renald. I heard he offered guidance to those... displaced in the light."
The boy looked up, polite but guarded.
"I'm sorry. He's not here."
"Not here for... long?"
"He left," the boy said. "Said he was going on a journey."
"And did he say where?"
A pause.
"No, ma'am. Only that he needed time to reflect. He took nothing but a cloak and his staff."
Sevi nodded slowly, as if that explained everything.
"That's... very like him."
She turned. The illusion folded back into her stride.
At the edge of the estate, she rejoined the others.
"He left. On foot. Alone. Told no one where."
Torren scratched his chin.
"Religious reflection, huh? Or someone tipped him off. Either way... I say we search his office. If there's anything to find, it's buried."
Zee gave a nod.
"Wait till nightfall. Then we move."
That evening, the moon carved shapes into the wooden floorboards of Renald's study.
They searched everything. Every scroll. Every drawer. Every hollow beam and dustless shelf. Sevi even checked the seams of the carpet. Zee pulled up every floorboard he could lift without making a sound.
Nothing.
Not even a smudge on the glass.
Finally, Zee stood still in the center of the room... then turned.
"We move to the next one. If he resurfaces, we'll know."
... But Renald had already resurfaced.
Just not for them.
He sat beneath a tree that didn't belong to any province. His robes were no longer gold... the lining burned, the sigils removed. What he wore now was stitched by hand... humble, forgettable.
In his lap was a letter. Folded in thirds. Creased like it had been opened too many times.
Brother Renald —
We are glad you saw the truth for what it was.
We welcome your voice to our cause. One less voice for silence... one more for the flame.
We will meet you at the place we spoke of.
Come alone.
He folded it again. Slower this time.
Then he looked out into the trees. Not with fear. Not with doubt.
But with calm.
And for a long while... he smiled.