What Is The Epilogue To Grigs Rebellion

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What am I doing? Grigs thought as he made his way through the cold and gloomy castle. There had been a fog for the past three days that had sunk its way into the ancient stones and had permeated the hallways. Grigs walked through the halls on his way to what he believed was going to be his death. His heart was racing and despite the cold, found that his hands were sticky with sweat, making the torch he was holding slippery. Normally a guard would be leading him down this deep into the castle proper, but a gold piece had made the guard decide that Grigs was an excellent navigator and could do the journey on his own.
He had entered through the Dawn Gate, which meant that he was further from his destination, but had much less chance of being
Grigs’ only communication with him had been through a currier. They had set the bait of a rebel that wanted to defect and stop the rebellion once and for all so he could go home. Grigs had practiced for hours to convince himself that he was a betrayer. Jornis had helped him enormously, as had Caleb, coaching him on exactly how to act and what to say when they finally had their meeting. Caleb almost seemed to have personal knowledge of him, and only passed his counsel to Grigs when he knew they were both alone. It was this that Grigs took with him as he neared the outer chamber.
Two guards were posted, both clad in midnight black leathers, studded with onyx. They both carried Blackblades, long swords that had been forged with such heat that the metal had turned a midnight blue. These swords had a sharpness that was legendary and only the most talented of swordsmen could use them. They were members of his Wolf Guard, handpicked by him out of scores of soldiers. They were few in number and took orders from him only.
The guards brought themselves to attention before Grigs reached
He held something in his hand and as he approached, the wizard felt the magic that had started to gather begin to ebb. He was a tall man, broad of shoulder but thin and very agile looking. Corin recognized him at once.
Jornis was the leader of the rebels. He was the one that threw the first rock at the Kings Grain carriage that had started the rebellion. They had taken that wagon, and with it the resolve of the small group he had started with had swelled into a tidal wave, bringing villages and rabble alike to their cause of overthrowing an unfair monarch and replacing it with the pipe dream of elected rule.
It was him who Corin was supposed to be obliterating this night. Him, and his inner circle. He now realized that the rebels had not gathered to make their final plans, they had gathered for him, and he had fallen for it. Jornis may have been walking these very halls for the last three months and it was likely that he never would have noticed. Hiding in plain sight had become a specialty of Jornis’s. A damned annoying one from the wizards’ point of