Chapter 16: Betrayal

Jarek’s message arrives as they finish their meal - urgent information about the warlock. Giroud’s instincts prickle at the unusual timing, but Jarek has never steered him wrong before.

The warehouse looms against the dark sky, its weathered walls casting long shadows across the empty street. Aya moves silent as a cat beside him, her footsteps matching his own. The door creaks open at his touch, revealing darkness within.

“Jarek?” Giroud’s voice echoes through the vast space. The musty air carries unfamiliar scents - too many bodies, too much steel.

A lantern flares to life, then another. Shapes materialize from behind barrels and towers of boxes - armed figures emerging like specters. Giroud counts twelve, no, fifteen mercenaries surrounding them, weapons drawn.

Jarek steps into view, his fine clothes incongruous in this grimy setting. “I’m sorry, old friend.” His familiar weathered face twists with something like regret.

The betrayal hits harder than any blade. Decades of shared drinks, traded information, saved lives - all worth less than coin? Giroud’s hand finds his sword hilt as he shifts closer to Aya.

Steel rings against steel as Giroud draws his blade. Aya’s back presses against his, her dagger already in hand. The warehouse air grows thick with tension, broken only by the soft shuffle of boots on stone.

“Whatever they’re paying you,” Giroud keeps his voice steady, “it’s not enough for what comes next.”

The first mercenary lunges forward, and the trap springs fully shut.

Cold iron bites into Giroud’s wrists as consciousness returns. His head throbs, blood caking the side of his face. The last moments before darkness flash through his mind - being overwhelmed by sheer numbers, watching Aya fall to a blow from behind. His heart races as he searches the dim dungeon.

“Aya?” His voice cracks.

“She’s in the next cell.” Jarek’s familiar rasp comes from beyond the bars. “Unconscious but unharmed.”

Giroud strains against his chains. “Why, Jarek? After everything we’ve been through?”

Jarek steps into view, shadows carving deep lines in his aged face. “El-Raffar has plans for Whitespire. Big plans. That warlock you’ve been preparing for ... They’re working together.”

The revelation hits Giroud like ice water. “The relic from the bandits...”

“That relic was just one piece of the warlock’s ritual. El-Raffar’s spent months collecting these artifacts.” Jarek paces, his once-fine clothes now wrinkled and stained. “You and the girl were moving too fast, disrupting his plans. See, El-Raffar meant to betray the warlock after they’d taken Whitespire together. He was grooming you for that purpose - to strike when the moment was right. But that plan falls apart if you eliminate the warlock before he can help seize the city.”