Many might think the spy’s biggest threat is being discovered.

Kiant’Ka slid on her stomach along a thin wooden beam. Too thin for any man. Too thin for most women. But not ‘Ka. Not the Lightning Branch.

The spy shuffled further and further along the thin beam until she came to the center supporting one, thick with a whirl of thin timber planks crossing around it. Kiant’ka slipped through a gap barely big enough for a child, her right ear twitching as she quickly fell into a deep squat, eyes locked down on below. Muffled voices and thudded steps on stone echoed from the hallway, growing into furious whispers and impatient steps as the men behind them burst through the great oak doors below. There were two: the first man was tall, with broad shoulders and firmness to his steps, not just that one of nobility, as could be seen by the dark purple robe he held around him, but also one of military. His hair was a very light brown and mostly slicked straight back save for two braids with gold thread from the center front of his head going back behind his ears. The other was a slightly short, pudgy, pink man with a thinning tassel of brown hair that sheened with a layer of sweat, he slicked it back with a tightly-clutched handkerchief, his rings and wristbands gleaming in the lamplight, lots of jewelry, he licked his lips between every couple of words.

“What are we going to do, Jarrison?” Asked the shorter man, finally raising his voice in privacy. “I mean… I just can’t believe-”

“Shush!” The taller man, Jarrison, snapped, lurching with a finger to his lips at the pudgy man. The noble physically buckled as he stumbled a couple steps back. “I don’t know how much time I’ve got before those old bastards come calling for me,” he hissed, standing up straight as he patted down his robe to smooth out any crinkles. “We’ve made it this far, now all we have to do is make sure we stay here.”

“Y-Yes, your Majesty,” the pudgy man gasped, bowing his head as low as possible.

“Good, Gnolk. Good,” Jarrison muttered, turning around as he began to pace about the center beam, Gnolk nervously licking his lips in a corner. He could’ve looked directly up at where Kiant’Ka was squatting and all he would’ve seen would be a cobweb of timber.

One of the spy’s biggest tools is remaining undiscovered.

“Do you have the list?” Jarrison asked, practically spitting out the last two words with contempt, Gnolk nodded enthusiastically, raising his hand to speak. “Don’t speak, you imbecile!”

The pudgy noble limply lowered the finger with a solemn nod.

“Can you start carrying it out?”

Jewelry jingled.

“Discreetly?”

A firm raise of the head.

“I hope so…” Jarrison sighed like he’d just finished plowing a field with a dozen more to go. The royalty rolled his shoulders with a groan, slowly walking over to the sweaty man still crouched by the corner, the gold embroidery of his purple robe glowing in the fire as he spoke in an ominous tone. “Because you’ve but a brea- No, actually, less than a Breadth before one of those mongrels spill it if they haven’t already. And then allllll those years I spent working. Striving. Grovelling. Hoping,” the royal hissed in Gnolk’s ear, placing his hands on the wall, trapping the noble between them. “that I could even talk to someone of the standing which I now hold. Luckily, I chose the army through which to rise, thanks of course to that little incursion by the Juah’Lacions. Now, I am on the cusp of being the first Arturian to unite the Kinglands, which we will need with what we’ve heard on the stirrings across the ocean; The Iraelia Islands’ sisters having fallen silent, last words being that of flags on the horizon and fire dancing across water. All of that, however, will be wiped away as though they were sins seen by the graceful Sewers and you will be found in such a state that it will make the Thirteenth Hymns look as but a tavern song for children,” Jarrison spat out each word as though it were blood, the fat noble having gone a still, pale white. “That even the demons which still walk will look meekly upon your corpse. For you are not on that list only because you yourself are naught and you know it.

“But that does not mean you are without easiness to replace. Do not think I have forgotten our… confrontations because of this,” Jarrison muttered, leaning back and giving a disgusted wave of his hand with hauteur. “No. So do not fall to folly, for you will find no mercy beneath you when you do. Now, I’m  going to turn around and you are going to say ‘Yes, your most gracious Majesty,’ and you are going to go out there and do your damned job!” Jarrison hissed as he turned around with a stomp of his boots. The pale-faced noble stared for a second, open-mouthed, before jolting upwards and nodding furiously, sweaty jowls shaking as his jewelry rang out.

“Yes, I-” Gnolk stuttered, shaking his head as a light blush rose through his opaque cheeks. “Er, your most gracious Majesty,” giving a deep bow, not rising until he was out in the hallway, where his hurried steps echoed off of stone.

Many might wonder what a spy’s greatest threat is. For Gnolk, Kiant’Ka didn’t need give much thought on what his biggest danger was.

She did need to learn why, though.