While Eamond was celebrating in the orphanage over the deal he had just secured.
The chamber pulsed with low candlelight—no more than twelve flames flickering over the stone table, their glow swallowed by the suffocating dark that cloaked the rest of the room. The table itself was carved from obsidian, polished so smooth it reflected each figure seated around it as a wraithlike blur.
Only twelve seats. Eleven were filled.
And tension weighed heavy as fog.
"Still no word from 12?" asked the soft, velvety voice of 11. She leaned back into the shadow, legs crossed, fingers drumming against a carved armrest.
"None," murmured 3. "I sent a whisperbird two nights ago and she still hasn't replied."
"Or they ran," added 8, voice like gravel in a storm. "Weak link from the start."
"We should have burned them the moment they started asking questions," hissed 7
"Control," said 1. His voice was not loud, but it was final. "Not chaos."
A pause. Even 1 leaned back slightly.
The authority in that voice was unshakable.
"Besides," 1 continued, "we have more pressing concerns than the fate of a single worm."
These figures were indistinguishable because of the shadows looming over them, but you can tell from the atmosphere that they are far from pleased.
" Damn, Idiots. Why can't they do just one simple job?!" 8 replied.
" Yeah, who would have thought that a group of uneducated heathens would fail at a job that required a bit of brain power. Didn't see that coming." A sarcastic voice resounds (10).
" You should have let me handle it." An Icy voice replied (5)
" Ha, if you handled it, we all would have been found out and have the marquess' blade on our neck." Said in a Mocking tone (4)
" Enough of this child squabble. Now we need a way to control the Marquess or else he might find out what we did and kill us." (2)
" I say we should try to assassinate the Marquess family, starting with his wife and children. As a warning." 7 replied
" Why kill such fine specimens. We should kidnap them and sell them to a neighbouring noble." Said a lustful voice (6)
" How about you go to the church, repent, and come up with a good idea." 3 replied in disgust
As the voices continued to bicker, a cold voice at the head of the table spoke.
" Enough, we must not fight against ourselves. The plan won't change much after this setback,(10), you'll continue to ask for that piece of land from the Marquess and try to insert your presence into the Marquess' life."
" Understood," 10 replied
" 3, How is the progress in the papal palace going?"
" Smoothly and with no inconvenience, that will halt the next month's ceremony."
" Good, we'll use that ceremony as a way to control the Marquess' decisions."
The candlelight flickered as a sudden gust of chill wind passed through the chamber, though there were no windows, and the stone walls should've blocked any breeze.
It felt like a warning.
"Let's just hope the ceremony isn't interrupted," murmured 9. He hadn't spoken much until now, but his voice carried a quiet edge—like silk stretched over steel.
10 snorted. "Unless the Marquess can see through smoke, illusions, and twenty layers of holy tradition, he won't suspect a thing. The church will hand him the leash, and we'll be the ones pulling it."
"Still," said 4, tapping his fingers together, "we should accelerate the insertion of our agents into the Marquess' household. The steward is watchful. But the new scribe—he's hungry. Desperate. And easily persuaded."
"I've already sent a gift," said 11, a smile curling her lips. "He'll believe it came from a friend of the court. Nothing too grand. Just a taste."
5's cold voice slid in next. "Hope he likes poison with his honey."
"No poison," 1 said sharply.
The shadows recoiled at the force behind the command.
"We don't kill the Marquess yet. Not until the next phase."
They rose slightly from his chair, just enough for the light to strike a sliver of silver mask—the only glimpse of identity allowed at this table.
"Erenthal still has value. He holds the respect of too many. His death now would stir suspicion, not submission."
7 grunted in frustration. "So what then? Wait and smile while he foils every attempt to corner him?"
"Well, you just have to make sure that you don't fail," 1 replied, calm but final.
7's mouth clamped shut.
2 leaned forward. "We still have other strings to pull. The city guard is split in loyalty. Half the captains answer to coin, not crown. If we shake the Lower Wards enough—crime, food riots, fabricated heresy—we can force the Marquess' hand."
9 nodded. "Divide his attention. Exhaust his resources. And when he's weak…"
"We offer a solution," 1 finished. " Through the ceremony. Through the church."
They all understood what wasn't said: a public blessing that binds the Marquess to holy authority. Once sanctified, any deviation from their influence could be labeled heresy.
"3," One said, turning slightly, "secure the bishop's vote. He's old, vain, and fancies himself a kingmaker. He'll do anything for relevance."
"I already have a sermon drafted," 3 said with a smirk. "It ends with Erenthal kneeling before the altar."
"And if he doesn't?" 11 asked softly.
There was a pause.
Then 1 answered, with a voice colder than stone:
"Then we make him kneel."
The room fell into silence.
The candle flames burned lower now, their tips reaching like dying fingers toward the ceiling. The darkness pressed in tighter, as though listening.
One final voice broke the stillness—faint, childlike, almost a whisper.
"12 will talk eventually."
All eyes turned.
It was (2)who spoke next, their voices low. "Do you want me to find her?"
"No," 1 replied. "Let her run. Let her hide. She's already seen what happens when you fail this circle."
He stood fully now.
"Dismissed. Keep your masks on and your mouths shut. The Marquess still breathes—but only because we let him."
One by one, the figures rose and melted into the shadows, their cloaks whispering against the stone as they disappeared down separate passages.
The chamber emptied.
Only 1 remained, staring at the twelfth chair.
Silent. Empty.
Then, slowly, almost thoughtfully, he blew out the final candle.
Darkness consumed the room.
And the game moved forward.
The Marquess' estate,
The grand halls still shone—polished marble reflecting light through stained-glass windows, and the chandeliers still glimmered like stars suspended from the ceiling. But something in the air had changed. Heavier. Tense. As if the very stones remembered the threat that had trespassed against them.
Guards now lined the hallways in tighter formations—doubled at every doorway, with some dressed in plainclothes, lurking as shadows where none had existed before. The household staff whispered less and moved faster. A hushed fear threaded through every corridor, though none dared voice it aloud.
The kidnapping has rattled everyone to the core. The Marquess in the study room believes that tomorrow, everyone in the city will know what has transpired here.
But that's a different mess to handle. Right now, it's time to handle the rats that entered their home.
" Any update on the prisoners?" The Marquess asked coldly as he gazed out the window at the 2 children playing with their nanny.
" As they were about to tell us who they worked for, they all died under a binding curse. We're contacting the magic union to help in this investigation." The knight kneels and reports to the Marquess.
" Sigh, what annoying group of rats."
" However, sir, we managed to find that the person who's behind this might not be working alone. As this attack seems to be well interlocked with various industries, for one person to accomplish."
" Hmmm, for now, investigate any leads you have found and request the magic union again to fortify the barriers and alarms."
" Right away, Your Excellency."
" Also, make sure that you get the Golden Mage to do this. You may dismiss." The knight then bowed and exited the door, leaving only the Marquess, the knight commander, and his aide.
" Is there a reason for specifically asking the rank 8 mage to do this task, rather than someone higher?" Asked Michael, the knight commander.
" I believe that there's a rat in the union. We can't fully trust anyone there. The Golden Mage is much easier to trust, after all, he's someone who values money and contracts." As the Marquess explained, Michael nodded his head in understanding
" Okay, I get that, but why sponsor the orphanage and their business?" Aloy, his aide, asked with bewilderment. Seeing no value in doing this much for the orphanage
" It's just a gut feeling. I felt that child might turn this empire upside down." The Marquess replied with a grin.
" Sigh, well, your instinct hasn't let you astray just yet, my Lord."
" Shall I assign someone to guard him personally?" Michael asks.
" No, I've already found the perfect person for that." The Marquess replied, " Aloy, go call Vale to meet me."