Prince Connor sat in his lavish study, a glass of wine in hand, watching a recording of the trial's conclusion on a large screen. His expression shifted from intrigue to irritation as he leaned back in his chair, swirling the wine in his glass. The sight of Alex standing firm alongside Princess Helena, her loyalty unshaken, clearly displeased him.

"Huh," he muttered, narrowing his eyes at the screen, "I hadn't expected Consort Alex to completely abandon her parents like that. She played the part well—loyal, unflinching. It seems going after her family is not going to work."

He drained the last of his wine and slammed the glass down onto the desk, his frustration evident. "We need another plan," he said, speaking to the empty room as if it were full of advisors. "I won’t let her slip through my fingers. She should be mine, my pet, not the leftovers for that uptight Crown Princess."

Connor’s malicious smirk deepened as the plan began to take shape in his mind. He leaned forward, scribbling notes on a piece of parchment as his thoughts crystallized into something more tangible.

"The key is separation," he muttered to himself. "If I can create an accident that harms her but doesn’t kill her... something public enough to catch attention but chaotic enough to mask my involvement." He tapped his pen against the desk, his mind racing. "Then I’ll be the one to swoop in, her knight in shining armor, and whisk her away to safety—a place where I control everything."

He paused, rolling the pen between his fingers. "The hidden hospital will be perfect. We’ll treat her, care for her... and reprogram her. Isolate her from Helena, make her doubt everything she believed in, and ensure she sees me as her savior."

Connor leaned over the map displayed on his desk, his finger tracing the mag-train routes between city-states. His gaze landed on a remote stretch of track far from any densely populated areas. He smirked, his plan solidifying in his mind.

"This section," he murmured, "isolated, minimal surveillance, and far enough from reinforcements to delay any immediate recovery efforts."

The mag-trains were the pride of the Empire’s technological advancements, symbolizing its power and efficiency. To Connor, they were the perfect tool for disruption. A controlled malfunction would create chaos, sow doubt, and, most importantly, separate Alex from Helena.
Connor turned sharply and called out, "Grayson!"

His assistant entered promptly, his expression calm and attentive. "Yes, Your Highness?"

Connor gestured to the map. "We’re targeting the mag-train route here. I want a precise malfunction—something that derails the train but doesn’t destroy it entirely. Alex must survive, but she needs to be injured enough to require immediate extraction."

Grayson stepped closer, studying the map. "That section of track is well-monitored, but with the right timing and interference, we can create the appearance of a power surge or system failure. A controlled derailment can be arranged, but it will need to look like an unfortunate accident to avoid suspicion."

Connor nodded, satisfied. "Exactly. Once the train derails, my operatives will be in place to 'rescue' Alex from the wreckage and transport her to our hidden facility. She’ll be in my care before anyone realizes she’s missing."

Grayson crossed his arms thoughtfully. "The hidden hospital will need to be well-prepared. If Alex is injured, it must look convincing. And programming her loyalty will take time."

"I have patience," Connor replied, leaning back in his chair. "Every moment she’s in my care will draw her further away from Helena. When she’s returned, she’ll be a different woman entirely. And Helena’s fragile bid for Empress will crumble without her."

Grayson raised an eyebrow. "And the Crown Princess? She’ll notice Alex’s absence immediately."

Connor’s smirk widened. "Let her. She’ll be too preoccupied managing the fallout and the public outcry to suspect my involvement initially. Alex will be beyond her reach by the time she pieces it together. In my care, Alex will learn where her loyalty truly lies."

Grayson adjusted his glasses thoughtfully. "Understood. The extraction team will need medical personnel to make her injuries appear natural. And programming her loyalty will require careful conditioning."

Connor leaned back, his confidence unshaken. "That’s your job, Grayson. I want her to believe that I saved her life and that I am the only one who can protect her. By the time she’s ready to return, she’ll be entirely devoted to me. Without Alex, Helena will falter, and the Empire will demand stronger leadership."

Grayson gave a slight bow. "I’ll begin the preparations immediately. The mag-train schedules and security protocols will be reviewed to ensure precision."

Connor lifted his glass, his expression cold and calculating. "Soon, Alex will be mine, and Helena will lose everything she holds dear. The throne will be mine to claim."

As Grayson left to begin the preparations, Connor returned to the map, already envisioning the chaos his plan would unleash.

Helena and Alex sat together in their private sitting room in the emperor's palace, reviewing their itinerary for the coming week. Helena held a holographic tablet displaying their travel schedule and diplomatic agenda. The soft glow of the screen illuminated her thoughtful expression.

"Our upcoming trip to the Carolina city-state is crucial," Helena said, scrolling through the details. "The trade negotiations for farm goods are always tense. Carolina’s leaders are protective of their agricultural exports, and they’ll want to leverage every advantage they can."

Alex nodded, leaning forward to get a better look at the itinerary. "What’s the main sticking point this year? It’s usually about pricing, isn’t it?"

Helena sighed, her brow furrowing. "Pricing and quantity, mostly. Carolina has been claiming that their yields are lower this season due to poor weather, but some reports suggest otherwise. If they’re exaggerating, it’s to drive up their prices."

Alex tapped her chin thoughtfully. "And we’re trying to secure better rates for the northern city-states, right? They rely heavily on Carolina’s produce, especially for winter stores."

"Exactly," Helena said, setting the tablet down. "It’s not just about food—it’s about stability. If the northern states don’t get enough supplies, tensions could rise, and we can’t afford any unrest right now."

Alex gave a small smile. "You’ve thought this through, as always. What’s the plan for the negotiations?"

Helena returned the smile. "We’ll start with goodwill gestures—a tour of their top agricultural facilities and a public discussion about the importance of trade to the Empire. Then, we’ll move into private negotiations with their leadership. I’ll need you with me for both."

"Of course," Alex said without hesitation. "I’ll be there to support you."
Helena reached out, placing a hand on Alex’s. "Thank you, Alex. Your presence means so much to me, not just personally but politically. The consorts in Carolina respect you, and that will work in our favor."

Alex nodded, feeling the weight of her role but also the pride of being trusted with such responsibilities. "I won’t let you down, Helena."

Helena squeezed her hand, her eyes softening. "I know you won’t. Together, we’ll make sure these negotiations are a success."

As they continued to discuss the details of their trip, neither of them could anticipate the danger waiting for them on the journey ahead.

Trisha carefully sat down at her desk, her thoughts racing as she composed the letter. It needed to be subtle enough to pass Connor’s scrutiny if necessary but meaningful enough for Morgan to understand its hidden message. Her hands shook slightly as she dipped her pen in ink, and she took a deep breath to steady herself before beginning.
The Letter to Morgan
Dearest Morgan,
I hope this letter finds you well and thriving. I’ve been thinking a lot about how far we’ve all come since our days in the Academy. It’s incredible to see how our lives have blossomed, though I must admit, things here have been rather tense.

Connor has been preoccupied lately, always focused on his strategies and plans. I don’t always understand them, but he’s determined, as ever, to make his mark on the Empire. It’s left little time for anything else, and I find myself missing the simpler days of our training.

I remember you once saying how much you admired the mag-trains for their precision. It’s funny how even the most finely tuned machines can falter under stress, isn’t it? I hope to visit the Carolina State soon and see some of the agricultural advancements I’ve heard so much about. Have you been there recently? Perhaps we can compare notes when we next meet.

Speaking of which, I would like you to let the Empress Consort know how much I admire her leadership. She’s always been such a guiding light to all of us consorts. I feel she would understand the challenges I’m facing here better than most.

Alex’s strength has been such an inspiration. She’s shown us all what it means to rise above and stay true to oneself. Please remind her of that for me if you get the chance.

Stay safe, my dear friend. I look forward to hearing from you soon. Let me know when we can meet again—perhaps over tea in the capital?

With warm regards,
Trisha

Trisha read through the letter carefully, ensuring that its surface meaning was mundane, but the hidden hints were clear enough for Morgan. The mention of mag-trains “faltering under stress” was a veiled reference to Connor’s plan. The nod to the Empress Consort highlighted who Morgan should contact, while the admiration for Alex and the reference to “rising above” underscored the importance of protecting her.

Trisha sealed the letter with her personal insignia and called for one of Connor’s trusted couriers. She kept her voice light, masking her nerves. "This is for Consort Morgan. Please ensure it reaches her promptly."

The courier bowed and left with the letter. Trisha watched him go, her heart pounding in her chest. She had done what she could to warn Morgan. Now, all she could do was wait and hope that Morgan would understand the subtle warning and alert the Empress Consort before Connor’s plan could unfold.

Morgan sat in her room, the letter from Trisha laid out before her. She had read it once already, her brows furrowed as she tried to make sense of its unusually formal tone. It wasn’t like Trisha to write something so... carefully worded. Something felt off, and the mention of the mag-trains and the Empress Consort stood out as peculiar.

Taking a deep breath, Morgan read through the letter again, this time searching for meaning between the lines. As she pieced it together, the coded message revealed itself. Trisha’s references to Connor’s "strategies" and the mag-trains "faltering under stress" painted a picture that left Morgan feeling cold.

When she finished decoding, Morgan leaned back in her chair, staring at the letter with a mixture of concern and dread. "Oh, Trisha," she murmured to herself, "what’s happening up there?"

She folded the letter and tucked it into a drawer, her mind racing. The vague but troubling implications of Trisha’s message were clear enough: something dangerous was unfolding in Connor’s palace, and it involved the mag-trains. The mention of the Empress Consort was a subtle plea for action—Trisha was reaching out for help in the only way she could.

Morgan stood abruptly, her decision made. She needed to get this message to the Empress Consort immediately. Whatever Connor was planning, it had to be serious if Trisha was risking so much to send a warning. Morgan knew she had to act quickly to ensure Alex and Helena were protected.

Grabbing her cloak, Morgan made her way to the communication center in her estate. She would relay the information directly to the palace using a secure channel. As she prepared the message, she couldn’t help but whisper again, "Trisha, I hope you’re safe. I’ll make sure this gets to the right people."

She sent the encoded message with instructions for immediate delivery to the Empress Consort. It was out of her hands now, but she knew she had done her part. Now, she could only hope that her warning would reach them in time.