“Mallowes,” the exarch finally said, breathing the name. He lowered himself into his leather office chair. The padding wrapped around him like a comfortable glove.

The ghost paladin sipped, and nodded politely. He was the secret, eighteenth member of the august body that helped the exarch run the military and keep order. Sometimes known as “Emil” to the visiting paladins and knights who came and went right under his nose without ever knowing his identity. Champion of the ghost knight organization. Master of spies and covert operations.

Also, the man single-most responsible for adding to Jonah Levin’s sleepless nights.

“I’ve followed up on the legwork you ran before the election,” the ghost paladin said. “Most of our evidence is still circumstantial, but we have the best timeline possible under the circumstances. For instance, we know certain members of the Senate began ‘sponsoring’ young and excellent MechWarrior candidates as far back as twelve years ago. Hundreds of them.”

“All noble scions?” Jonah asked, surprised. Not paying due attention, his first sip of tea was too quick and he scalded the tip of his tongue. He pressed the pained area against the roof of his mouth.

“No. Some—Senator Mallowes for instance—went for top-drawer quality.”

Like Gareth Sinclair, the ghost paladin did not have to say. As an up-and-coming knight, and then the newest paladin, Gareth had figured prominently into Geoffrey Mallowes’ plans.

“Other members of this cabal spread their nets much wider, and were far more rough in their planning. Bribery, blackmail and intimidation; nothing was beyond their methods. They targeted nobles, citizens… even residents. In fact”—the ghost paladin paused—“I would think purchasing citizenship and a military billet for a disenfranchised resident goes a long way to securing loyalty. More so than favoring a noble’s son or daughter already born to privilege, and serving out of natural aptitude or their own sense of duty.”

Jonah nodded and sipped more cautiously this time. The bitter taste of caffeine was well-cloaked by the round, aromatic flavor of the tea. He let it sit in the back of his mouth a moment, determined to enjoy one thing in this afternoon. As with anything, though, savor too long and the bitter crept back in.

As with the senators, left unchecked for so many years. Noble born, every one of them. And from families with long histories of dominant rule. Histories that stretched back centuries, compared to The Republic’s mere six decades. Why hadn’t anyone else wondered about their reaction once Devlin Stone stepped down from power? Stepped down… and disappeared.

The promise of Stone’s return, should he be needed, was a widely known tale. But that’s all it remained. Not even Jonah, with his access to state secrets, could penetrate that level of security. Was there a shadow organization, then? Something Stone had set into place to watch the watchers?

Clearly some senators had thought the promise apocryphal, doubting Stone’s ability or desire to return. Jealous of the exarch’s power, remembering the before times when nobles controlled the fate of the Inner Sphere, the cabal’s plan had been simple and ambitious at the same time. Get their hooks into the rising stars of The Republic’s military arm, and work to get them noticed as knights and, eventually, paladins. At that level, even one or two owned men could bear undue influence in upper-level military policy. And if one could be made exarch…

As conspiracies went, this was well-planned for the long haul. If it hadn’t been discovered, it might very well have succeeded. But one paladin put it together. One very well-connected, very extraordinary man.

And it cost Victor Steiner-Davion his life.

Jonah swallowed his tea, letting it warm his throat. “Such a waste,” he said, speaking of the cabal’s efforts and Victor’s loss all in one.

The ghost paladin nodded. Understanding. “Some of our information comes from running down Victor’s leads, of course. Though we have never fully reconstructed the data erased after his assassination, or half of his sources. The memory of his caregiver—what she saw during the course of her duties—is still our best starting point.”

“And we have nothing direct linking Mallowes to Victor’s murder? A money trail? Testimony?”

“Nothing. We have the senator cold on conspiracy charges, but the rest is difficult. Henrik Morten is our direct access to the extortion and undue-influence case. We know Mallowes ordered him to bird-dog Victor once it became clear that Victor was snooping around. Morten conned information from the caregiver, then later ordered her unsuccessful murder contract to cover those tracks. We have that much in confession.” And he produced a small data wafer, slipped it onto the edge of the exarch’s desk.

Jonah left it alone. It seemed that every time he turned around, he was dealing with more state secrets than he’d ever wanted to know about. The interrogation and confession of Henrik Morten was video footage he could do without.

“It is a logical conclusion,” the ghost paladin continued, “that Mallowes also dealt the lethal blow to Paladin Steiner-Davion in between those two events.”

“But it cannot be proved,” Jonah complained. He set his tea aside, no longer interested in it. “The rest would be enough to convict him in Noble’s Court, if we were certain the other senators would stand an impartial trial. But it is Victor’s murder I want to hang over the whole cabal! The man was a bona fide hero and a living legend. He deserved better!”

The other man remained silent, neither agreeing with nor refuting the commentary. It was not his position to suggest or make policy, Jonah knew. He was the exarch’s greatest secret resource, and nothing more.

“There is no way to discover the extent of this conspiracy?” Jonah asked, resignation telling in the sudden loss of indignation.

The other man shook his head. “Not without a conviction in Noble’s Court to force Mallowes to open his mouth in exchange for leniency.”

“Let the conspirators police their own?” Jonah grimaced, the aftertaste of his tea turning more bitter by the moment. It wouldn’t happen. The senators had betrayed and attacked the very state entrusted into their hands by the people. “Not a chance. They can scream ‘separation of powers’ all they wish. Until they start cooperating with a military investigation of the Senate, we stay the course.”

The ghost paladin set his own cup aside. Leaning back, he steepled his hands beneath his chin, considering. “You know they are proceeding with argument for your censure,” he reminded the exarch, carefully retaining his neutrality.

Jonah did. The talk wasn’t exactly quiet anymore. By public fiat the Senate threatened to nationalize federal powers, working through The Republic’s planetary governors who were held responsible to the Senate and not to the exarch. Any other time, in the face of a common enemy, this show of solidarity among nobles might be heartening. Here, it turned his stomach. Censure the exarch! Devlin Stone would be sick to see what a complete shambles they had made of his flawed utopia.

“Maybe it’s time,” he decided, seizing on this last thought. “Time to remind them where we came from, and what The Republic was meant to accomplish.” He set a fist upon his desk. Its glass top felt cool to the touch. “One thing for certain, we must have our house in order before the Inner Sphere leaders start arriving.”

This raised an eyebrow. “You’ve received confirmation, then?”

“Some.” The exarch relaxed. Slightly. “The Rasalhague Dominion and Marik-Stewart Commonwealth so far. And House Liao.”

“Liao?” The ghost paladin raised an eyebrow.

Daoshen had been the one leader they both felt certain would ignore the invitation. “Never underestimate the power of paranoia. Daoshen’s message was terse but insightful. He wishes to make certain that Victor is ‘well and truly dead.’ I think he means to stick the body with a sharp pin.” He shrugged. “Of the others… I believe most will come.”