Chapter 195: Chapter 195— Baby Steps on Espionage

James submitted his third report to his Valdris handler on a cold morning in late autumn, using the dead drop location he’d been assigned during orientation. A hollowed brick in the academy’s eastern wall, accessible from the maintenance corridor that most students never noticed existed.

The report was three pages long. Detailed and comprehensive.

And it made him want to vomit.

He’d documented Sparkshire’s first-year political factions with clinical precision. The nobles’ alliance—who was involved, what their objectives were, how they coordinated exclusion campaigns against other recruits. The foreign students’ integration difficulties.

Everything his handler had requested.

Everything that felt like betrayal with each word he wrote.

James pressed his forehead against the cold stone wall after depositing the sealed report, breathing slowly, trying to convince himself this was still manageable. Still justified.

His family was stable. His mother’s medical bills were paid. His siblings had food. His tuition was covered through graduation.

All it cost was information.

Just observation, they’d said. Cultural documentation. Nothing that would directly harm anyone.

They’d lied.

The letter waiting in the dead drop—his handler’s response to the previous report—made that abundantly clear.

James pulled it out with trembling fingers and broke the seal.

Your documentation so far has been adequate but insufficient. We require actionable intelligence, not some surface observations. Priorities for next reporting period should entail:

1. Republic Shroud manipulation technology: Sparkshire possesses research into dimensional stabilization techniques that could revolutionize our Crawler breach response. Locate this documentation.Verbal description is acceptable if access is restricted.

2. Foreign student vulnerabilities: Identify which Ashmar and Solhaven students are most susceptible to recruitment or compromise. Personal problems, financial difficulties, ideological conflicts—anything exploitable.

3. Instructor capabilities: Document core abilities and tactical preferences of all senior instructors. This information is time-sensitive.

Your family’s continued support depends on meeting these objectives. We’ve been patient with your initial reports, but observation alone no longer satisfies our investment.

—V.M.

James read it twice, hands shaking worse each time.

They wanted classified information. Military intelligence. The kind of espionage that would get him executed if discovered, not just expelled.

And they’d phrased it as a transaction.Your family’s continued support depends on meeting these objectives.

A subtle threat without being explicit. Coercion dressed up as business arrangement.

He’d sold his soul for fifteen thousand gold coins, and the devil was escalating its demands.

—–

Three hundred meters southeast, in the east wing of sparkshire academy, Jara sat across from his new friend and tried not to think about what he was doing.

“This draining technique of yours is fascinating,” he said, keeping his tone genuinely curious rather than artificially interested. “How do you manage the vitality draw without overtaxing the plant sources?”

Bessia smiled—the warm, unselfconscious expression of someone who loved talking about their work. “It’s about establishing an equilibrium. You don’t just drain—you create a balanced exchange. The plant gives vitality, but I can redirect some of my own soul force to sustain it temporarily. It’s more complex than pure extraction.”

They were in sparkshire’s medical wing, supposedly studying together. Both were healers, both interested in advancing their capabilities, both grateful to have found someone who understood the unique pressures of keeping others alive in a world designed to kill them.

Jara had approached Bessia weeks earlier, using their shared specialization as natural common ground.

It hadn’t required manipulation.

She was genuinely kind. Genuinely curious. Genuinely willing to examine power from a foreigner’s perspective—something rare within the Academy, where most students operated under the quiet assumption that the Republic’s path was inherently superior.

To them, external methodologies were inferior derivatives.

To Jara, they were alternatives worth studying.

That openness had made the connection easy. Organic. Unforced.

Which, in its own way, made it more valuable.

Building the friendship had felt easy.

Using it felt like poison.

“Could you show me the technique again?” Jara asked. “I’ve been struggling with stamina management during extended healing sessions. If I could supplement my reserves through external sources…”

“Of course!” Bessia replied immediately, enthusiasm lighting her expression.

She pulled out her notes—meticulous documentation of her Tether Drain integration. Diagrams of soul-force circulation patterns. Observations on optimal plant species for vitality extraction. Marginal notes detailing instability thresholds and recovery intervals.

Bessia wasn’t naïve about the value of guarding her advantages.

But healers were rare. Rare in core abilities. Even rarer in soul talent. The drop rate for healing-aligned cores was abysmal, which meant structured healing builds were scarce across the Academy.

Sharing refinement techniques didn’t feel reckless—it felt collaborative.

And she hadn’t shared everything.

Her core abilities were deeply interwoven with her soul talent, and that particular facet of her power remained private. Among the already limited healer population, those whose abilities stemmed directly from soul talent rather than core acquisition were extraordinarily uncommon.

And extraordinarily valuable.

If anyone mistook her openness for weakness, they would discover—eventually—that they had miscalculated badly.

Jara listened with careful attention, copying notes methodically.

Asking questions.

Clarifying subtle transitions in energy routing.

Some of it was genuine curiosity.

The rest wasn’t.

Because later, alone, he would transcribe those details into a coded report.

Medical techniques that Valdris healers could replicate.

Soul-force manipulation patterns not widely documented in foreign archives.

Subtle inefficiencies in Republic healing doctrine that could become strategic leverage during conflict.

Each word copied felt heavier than it should have.

He hated that part of himself.

Hated how easily the duality came now.

Student.

Friend.

Asset.

And every time Bessia smiled while explaining a breakthrough—

—the weight increased.

“Thank you,” Jara said when they finished. And meant it. “This is incredibly helpful.”

“I’m glad!” Bessia started packing up her materials. “We should practice together sometime. I could use a partner who understands the nuances.”

“Definitely.”

She left with a wave and a smile.

Jara sat alone in the medical wing for another twenty minutes, staring at his copied notes.

His sister’s treatment depended on this. The experimental alchemical compounds that were keeping her alive cost more per month than most families earned in a year. Valdris was funding it. Would continue funding it.

As long as he cooperated.

The latest letter from his handler had been clear:

Your friendship with the Republic healer is valuable. Maintain it. Deepen it if possible. Additionally:

Identify vulnerabilities in the Republic medical doctrine. What do their healers do poorly? What gaps exist in their training? This information will be strategically valuable.

Your sister’s next treatment cycle is scheduled for three weeks from now. Funding is contingent on satisfactory progress.

—V.M.

The same handler as James. The same escalation from passive observation to active intelligence gathering.

The same threat wrapped in polite language.

Jara had drafted his report last night. Would submit it tomorrow through his own dead drop—a loose floor tile in sparkshire’s library basement.

He’d documented everything Bessia had shared. Transcribed her notes with uncomfortable precision. Added his own analysis of potential tactical applications.

Everything that would help Valdris.

Everything that betrayed someone who trusted him.

His hands were shaking.

He forced them still.

His sister was twelve years old. She liked reading adventure novels and complained about her tutors and dreamed about becoming a combat medic when she grew up.

She was dying.

And Jara would do anything—anything—to keep her alive.

Even this.

Especially this.

He packed up his materials and left the medical wing before someone noticed he was crying.

—–

In Valdris’s capital, Merchant Prince Corvus reviewed the latest intelligence reports with methodical satisfaction.

Two operatives embedded in the foreign exchange program. Both producing tricking but substantial intelligence. Both sufficiently compromised that extraction or rebellion was unlikely.

The James boy had provided detailed documentation of Sparkshire’s political factions and was now being directed toward classified military intelligence. His family’s financial dependence made him controllable. His mediocre combat capability made him unthreatening. A Perfect asset profile.

Jara had successfully infiltrated the Republic healer’s confidence and was extracting medical intelligence that Valdris’s alchemical researchers had already begun analyzing. His sister’s medical dependence made him desperate. His genuine compassion made him effective at building trust. Also perfect.

The Merchant Prince made notes in the margins of both reports.

James: Increase pressure gradually. He’s close to breaking point but not quite there. Push him toward the Shroud manipulation documentation but don’t explicitly threaten him yet. Implied consequences only.

Jara: He’s performing adequately. Maintain current pressure level. His sister’s treatment continues as long as intelligence quality remains high. Consider introducing secondary objectives once primary intelligence gathering is established.

Once we are done with preliminary play on subterfuge we can go on to the real deal.

He sealed both sets of instructions and handed them to his courier master.

“Deliver through the usual channels. Timing is important—I want these received within forty-eight hours.”

The courier master nodded and departed.

Corvus returned to his broader strategic overview.

The Republic had excluded Valdris from the exchange program, believing isolation would weaken Valdris’s influence.

Fools.

Money had purchased what diplomacy couldn’t. By the time the exchange program concluded, Valdris would make sure that everything the men in suits, with their pompous plays on power prepared, would go up in flames.

And the Republic would have no idea until it was far too late.

He poured himself wine from a crystal decanter and allowed himself a moment of satisfaction.

A time of rest he truly needed from the weight of his wealth.

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