CHAPTER 82: THE ENEMY’S MAP

Britannian Intelligence Analysis Bureau – Three Weeks Later

The room smelled faintly of lamp oil and damp paper. Rain pattered against the tall windows, blurring the gaslight beyond. On the table lay the sum total of Lady Marguerite Ellenshire’s work in Madrid — a thick dossier bound in red twine, stamped MOST SECRET.

Admiral Sir Percival Harrow leaned over the maps, his finger tracing the schematic of the supposed underground rail network Lancelot had allowed her to "discover."

"It matches the tram expansion corridors," Harrow said. "They’ve built a public system over a hidden military artery. It explains how they can move so quickly without massing troops in view."

A junior officer nodded. "Our analysts believe each tunnel segment doubles as a secure munitions route. If those artillery pieces she mentioned are accurate, they could bring guns into the heart of the capital in under an hour."

Harrow exhaled slowly. "It’s... elegant. Brutal, but elegant."

Another officer, grey-haired and sharp-eyed, spoke up. "It’s also incomplete. We only have half the depth profiles. There may be lower levels."

"And if there are?" Harrow asked.

"Then Madrid is a fortress built under the skin of a city. Storming it conventionally would be suicide."

The conclusion was obvious. Britannia began drafting Operation Spindlehook — a contingency plan to neutralize the underground network before any full-scale conflict. The plan included targeted demolitions, infiltration teams, and, if necessary, civilian evacuations to avoid mass casualties.

Every calculation, every route, was based on the intelligence Lancelot had planted.

Glanzreich Strategic Command – The War Map Room

Admiral Albrecht von Strahl stood before a sprawling relief map of Iberia. Brass pins marked rail lines, forts, and supply depots. A new cluster of pins — red-tipped — had appeared around Madrid.

"Our Britannian friends are moving engineers into Cadiz and Valencia," von Strahl said to his staff. "They’re preparing for contingencies. That tells us two things: one, they believe the intelligence; two, they expect us to believe it as well."

Colonel Dietrich, his intelligence chief, scowled. "We’ve seen the schematics. If they’re true, storming Madrid is impossible without months of siege."

Von Strahl tapped the map lightly. "Unless we cut the arteries."

His staff exchanged glances. Everyone knew he meant sabotage — but large-scale, high-risk, and preemptive.

Dietrich lowered his voice. "It would require placing demolition crews inside the city months before war is declared."

"Then we place them," von Strahl replied flatly. "Our window is narrow. If Britannia is preparing, we must be ahead of them."

Madrid – Royal Palace, Private Study

Lancelot stood at his desk, reading the latest intercepted communiqués from both Glanzreich and Britannia. The corners of his mouth lifted — not quite a smile, but close.

"They’re moving," Isandro reported. "Britannia has begun diverting engineers to southern ports. Glanzreich is slipping more ’commercial agents’ into the capital."

"Good," Lancelot murmured. "They’re reacting to a map that doesn’t exist."

Isandro tilted his head. "It exists, just not the way they think."

Lancelot turned the page in his hand, scanning a Glanzreich cipher that described the location of "suspected artillery storage points" under Plaza del Sol.

"They’ll spend months chasing shadows," Lancelot said. "Every false depot they mark, every demolition plan they draft — it’s time and resources they won’t spend on real vulnerabilities."

Britannian Embassy – Madrid

Marguerite Ellenshire received her reply by coded letter: Information confirmed at highest levels. Continue surveillance. Identify lower network if possible.

She read it twice, feeling a strange mixture of pride and unease. Pride that her work was being taken seriously. Unease because she could not shake the sense that Vargas — and perhaps the Prince himself — was leading her somewhere.

But doubt was dangerous. She pushed it aside.

Her next report focused on "new construction" near the Royal Arsenal — a project Lancelot had deliberately made visible to her. Workers moved large crates in daylight, as if they had nothing to hide. It was bait, and she bit, convinced it tied into the underground fortification effort.

Royal Arsenal – The Illusion

In truth, the Arsenal’s new construction was a decoy project. The crates held nothing more than cast-iron blanks and obsolete machinery, repurposed to look like cutting-edge artillery. Workers were briefed to grumble about "tunnel deliveries" loud enough for passersby to overhear.

By the time Marguerite’s intelligence reached Britannia, the images had been sketched, copied, and compared to existing artillery designs — none of which matched. Analysts concluded Aragon had developed a new, unknown caliber.

That conclusion was exactly what Lancelot wanted: foreign powers scrambling to anticipate a weapon that didn’t exist, forcing them to waste resources developing countermeasures.

Glanzreich – Naval War Council

Colonel Dietrich presented the latest "findings" from their Madrid assets.

"These crates are unlike any naval guns we’ve seen," he said, pointing to a diagram. "If they’re mounting them underground, they might also be designing surface batteries for the coast."

Von Strahl leaned forward. "Which would threaten our supply lines to the colonies."

His decision was swift: "Divert two design bureaus to counter this new artillery. Prioritize speed over cost."

Every coin, every engineer they assigned to this phantom threat was one less to spend on their actual, pressing needs.

Madrid – Fort Aurelius, Counterintelligence Briefing Room

The room smelled faintly of tobacco and machine oil. Lancelot leaned over the central table, listening as Isandro listed the most recent enemy adjustments.

"Britannia is shifting funds from its northern rail expansions to coastal fortifications," Isandro said. "Glanzreich has postponed a joint fleet exercise to focus on artillery R&D. Francois is staying quiet but increasing cipher traffic to their Madrid safehouses."

Lancelot tapped the table lightly. "Three opponents, all now allocating resources to the same ghost. This buys us time."

One of the junior officers asked, "Time for what, Highness?"

Lancelot looked at him, eyes steady. "Time to finish the real network."

The room fell silent.

The Real Network

Beneath the city, teams of engineers and sappers worked under armed guard, carving the true arteries of Madrid’s defense. Unlike the false schematic Marguerite carried, the real network ran deeper, wider, and connected not just military sites but also key civilian infrastructure — hospitals, food depots, water pumping stations.

In war, it would allow Lancelot to shift not only troops and guns, but also medicine, food, and evacuees without exposing them to bombardment.

The false map made it look like Madrid’s strength was centralized. In reality, the real system was distributed, impossible to disable with a single strike.

Britannia – Admiralty Operations Room

Weeks later, Harrow’s staff delivered a progress report.

"Our counter-battery prototype is ahead of schedule," an engineer said. "If deployed, it could neutralize those underground artillery pieces before they’re fully operational."

Harrow nodded but remained uneasy. "And if the intelligence is wrong?"

The engineer hesitated. "Then we’re building weapons for a battlefield that doesn’t exist."

Harrow looked at the map again. "Pray we’re not."

Glanzreich – Intelligence Division

Dietrich was less cautious. "Our infiltration teams report no major obstacles moving in the southern districts. If we place the charges at the points indicated on the schematic, we can cripple the tunnels in the first hours of war."

Von Strahl approved the plan. "Begin preparations."

They had no idea those "points" were dead ends — reinforced chambers with nothing but stone behind them.

Madrid – Royal Palace, Moonlit Balcony

Lancelot stood alone, a coded message in his hand. The lights of the city stretched before him, each tramline and lamp post a vein in the living organism he had turned Madrid into.

"They’ll keep chasing what isn’t there," he murmured.

He knew the danger wasn’t over. Marguerite was too skilled to stop digging forever. Eventually, she might stumble close to the truth.

But for now, she was the vector through which three empires were bleeding their own strength.

And when the day came that they realized the truth, it would be too late.

Overseas – Francois High Council, Secret Session

The masked figures sat in a circle, the leader’s voice low and deliberate.

"Britannia and Glanzreich are shifting resources. The Prince has them reacting, not acting."

Another voice said, "If we move quietly, we can position ourselves to strike when both are committed elsewhere."

"And if the tunnels are a lie?" someone asked.

The leader paused, then said, "Then we strike anyway. Because whether the tunnels exist or not, the perception of them shapes the war as much as the reality."

Madrid – Calle de Alcalá, Dawn

Marguerite boarded a tram, her notebook hidden in the false bottom of her bag. Vargas sat across from her, looking as unreadable as ever.

"You’ve been busy," he said softly.

"I follow where the truth leads," she replied.

"Do you?" he asked, eyes lingering on hers.

For the first time, she felt the full weight of his question — and wondered if she’d been following a trail someone else had laid out stone by stone.

Marguerite looked away, focusing on the passing streets instead of Vargas’s gaze. Outside, the city seemed oblivious to the currents running beneath it — merchants setting up stalls, children chasing each other across the cobblestones, the hum of the tram wires overhead. Yet she felt it now, a pulse beneath the surface, deliberate and controlled. Somewhere, the Prince was smiling at a game she wasn’t sure she’d agreed to play. Somewhere, her reports were shaping decisions in rooms she would never see. And somewhere deeper still, the real Madrid — the one she could not yet map — waited in silence, untouchable for now.