Seraphis stood before the Guildmaster, her mask covering her face, her
white eyes
focused on the parchment he held out.
“This one is different,” he said, voice laced with something between
caution and amusement
. “You’ll need a delicate touch.”
She took the paper, unfolding it.
Target:
Commander Aldric Vayne
Affiliation:
The Night’s Order
Crimes:
Abuse of power, extortion, murder.
Details:
He recently killed a bartender in cold blood—laughed about it, paid no consequences.
Objective:
Make it look like an accident.
Seraphis tilted her head slightly. “An accident?”
The Guildmaster smirked. “He’s high-ranking. If it looks like a hit, the entire Order will be out for blood. But if he’s just another drunken fool who ‘fell’ from his own balcony…” He spread his hands. “No one questions it.”
Seraphis read the details again.
A noble who thought himself untouchable.
She
folded the parchment
, tucked it away, and turned without another word.
A Target Wrapped in Gold
Aldric Vayne lived in a
mansion in the upper district
, a place crawling with guards and servants.
But that wasn’t the problem.
The real challenge was
Aldric himself
.
He wasn’t just any officer—he was a
high-ranking commander in the Night’s Order
, a man who had killed countless people and walked away without a scratch.
He
drank like a beast, fought like a monster, and lived as if nothing could touch him.
But tonight,
he would learn fear.
The Infiltration
Seraphis moved through the upper district like a shadow. She had
memorized the mansion’s layout
, knew where the guards patrolled, and where the
blind spots
were.
She scaled the back wall, slipped through a
second-story window
, and melted into the darkness.
Inside, the scent of
wine and roasted meat
lingered in the air. The halls were dimly lit with golden chandeliers, and muffled laughter echoed from the grand hall.
She followed the sound.
A Beast Among Men
Aldric was in his
lavish lounge
, surrounded by women and officers. His
red cape
draped over his chair, his
gold-trimmed armor
discarded in a corner.
His laughter boomed as he slammed his goblet down. “You should’ve seen the bastard’s face when I ran him through!”
The men laughed with him. The women forced nervous smiles.
Seraphis clenched her fist.
This man disgusted her.
A serving girl poured him another drink, her hands trembling. He grabbed her
roughly
, pulling her onto his lap.
“Easy now,” he slurred, grinning. “I don’t bite—unless I want to.”
Seraphis moved.
With a flick of her wrist, a
tiny needle
shot from her sleeve, piercing the side of his
goblet
a slow-acting sedative.
Aldric
drank deep, unaware.
She disappeared before anyone noticed.
The Final Fall
Two hours later, Aldric stumbled
alone
to his
private quarters
. His guards stood at attention outside his door, but inside?
He was alone.
Drunk.
And vulnerable.
Seraphis was already waiting.
She crouched in the shadows,
watching him sway
, rubbing his temples as the drug took hold.
“What… the hell…” He staggered toward the balcony, gripping the railing for support. “Damn wine’s too strong…”
Seraphis stepped forward, silent as death.
Then she
shoved
him.
He gasped, his hands flailing as he lost his balance.
He tumbled over the edge.
The world slowed.
His body twisted. His wide eyes met hers for a fleeting second.
And then—
CRACK.
His body hit the
stone courtyard below
, neck snapping on impact.
Just another
drunken fool who had too much to drink
.
The Aftermath
The next morning, the city was
buzzing
.
“A tragedy,” they called it. “Commander Vayne had too much to drink.”
“Shameful,” others whispered. “A decorated officer, gone just like that.”
No one suspected an assassination.
And Seraphis?
She was already
gone
, vanishing into the morning fog.