The
candlelight flickered
, casting shadows across the stolen letter. The ink was elegant, the handwriting precise—
too precise.
"A noble’s hand."
Seraphis leaned back in her chair, one boot resting on the assassin guild’s worn desk. Reynard, the guildmaster,
watched her with amusement
from behind a pile of old contracts.
"So?"
he drawled.
"Got yourself a new admirer?"
Seraphis flicked the letter toward him.
It slid across the desk.
"Someone’s playing games."
Reynard scanned the words. Then—
his smirk vanished.
"This seal..."
He tapped the corner of the paper where a barely visible crest had been pressed into the parchment.
Seraphis
narrowed her eyes.
"You recognize it?"
"Unfortunately."
He leaned back, crossing his arms.
"That crest belongs to Lord Bastian Rhell. A noble who should’ve been rotting in a grave years ago."
Seraphis frowned.
"Crimes?"
Reynard scoffed.
"Where do I begin? Smuggling, bribery, trafficking, black-market dealings—you name it. He's got half the kingdom in his pocket. And if he sent you that letter, then congratulations—you’ve caught his attention. And trust me, you don’t want that."
Seraphis grinned.
"Oh, I do."
Phase One: The Investigation
The next morning, Seraphis
slipped into the noble district
, wrapped in a long hooded cloak.
Lord Bastian’s estate was
opulent
, perched on the hill overlooking the city—
like a vulture waiting to pick the bones of the kingdom.
She spent the day
watching.
Guards rotated at
irregular intervals.
The front gates were heavily manned, but the
back servant entrance
had a much looser patrol.
She waited until dusk.
Then,
she moved.
A quick step, a flick of her wrist—
a metal playing card spun through the air
, cutting the candlelight in a back alley.
A guard turned.
A mistake.
Seraphis was already behind him, a knife at his throat.
"Scream, and I cut your tongue."
The man
stiffened.
"Who’s inside?"
she whispered.
"T-the Lord is hosting guests. A private meeting—"
"Guests?"
"Nobles. Military officers. Some foreign merchants—"
Seraphis smiled.
"Thanks."
A swift
strike to the temple
and the guard collapsed.
She
dragged him into the shadows
and disappeared into the estate.
Phase Two: The Eavesdrop
Slipping past patrols was easy. The real challenge was
finding Bastian.
She scaled the
outer balcony
, pressing herself flat against the cold stone.
Through the window, she spotted
a lavish dining hall.
Bastian sat at the head of the table,
surrounded by figures draped in velvet and silk.
She focused on the
conversation.
"The Queen is still consolidating power,"
one noble said, swirling his wine.
"But if we move quickly—"
"She’s not a fool,"
Bastian cut in, voice smooth as poison.
"If we’re careless, we’ll end up like the others—hanging from the gallows. We need a different approach. We need..."
He leaned forward.
"Someone who understands the game."
Seraphis’ stomach
tightened.
Then—
Bastian pulled out a second letter.
A
twin
to the one she received.
She narrowed her eyes.
"How many others have gotten the same invitation?"
Bastian smirked, as if he’d heard her thoughts.
"The White Raven is a dangerous piece on the board,"
he mused.
"But if played correctly... she could be useful."
Seraphis
gritted her teeth.
"You want to play, Bastian?"
She pulled out a
playing card, the metal glinting in the candlelight.
"Let’s play."