Dawn broke over Sylvandar, casting a golden light across forty butchered corpses.
Nobody bothered to move them.
Leaving dead assassins scattered across the stones sent a much better ssage than sweeping them quietly away.
Stepping onto the balcony with a cup of tea, Kane looked down at his ruined courtyard.
’I conjecture the local property values just plumted,’ Kane mused, taking a slow sip.
’Or maybe they skyrocketed. Politics is wonderfully weird.’
Lyssel and Caelindra already occupied the small iron patio table right next to him.
Neither woman seed particularly bothered by the pungent sll of blood floating up from below.
They were busy doing what they did best, weaponizing the chaos.
"You left the trash out," Lyssel noted, not bothering to look up from her parchnt.
"It builds character for the neighborhood," Kane offered, pulling up a chair.
"Besides, I wanted the local lords to get a really good look at what happens when soone tries to visit unannounced."
Caelindra dipped her quill.
"Three rchant houses already sent ssengers this morning. Lord Varenthal dispatched a cart full of vintage wine, and Lady Aris sent two chests of silk. They are calling it a ’neighborly gesture of goodwill’."
"Aris hated last week," Kane remarked.
"Last week you were just a gladiator," Lyssel countered smoothly.
"Today you are the monster that keeps other monsters away. It changes the social dynamic. Those cowards watched a foreign strike team infiltrate the capital, and they watched you dismantle that sa team before the city guard even put their boots on. They realize the apex predator just moved in next door."
"Let them send tribute," Kane smiled, resting his foot on the railing.
"What’s the official narrative we are feeding the court?"
"Simple," Caelindra replied, adjusting her glasses.
"The nual Empire just committed an overt act of war deep inside Elven borders. While the royal military slept comfortably, the Bloodfang warlord bravely protected the capital from foreign sabotage. It makes the queen look slow, while making you look entirely indispensable."
’These two are terrifying,’ Kane chuckled internally, admiring their efficiency.
’They can turn a bloody assassination attempt into a profitable marketing campaign before breakfast.’
"We need to discuss Chancellor Morvak," Lyssel pivoted, folding her hands neatly on the table.
"He sent those shadows. He expects them to return with your head."
"I was just thinking about that," Kane agreed, lowering his cup.
"Morvak needs a receipt. I want to send sothing visceral straight to his personal desk, but royal couriers search every package crossing the border."
Lyssel tilted her head, a wicked smile playing on her lips.
"My father’s shipyard contacts. The smugglers who handle the undocunted timber."
"Can they bypass the border checkpoints?" Kane asked.
"They move contraband into the nual capital every single week," she promised.
"If we pay them enough, they can drop a package directly into Morvak’s private study."
Standing up, Kane gestured down toward the courtyard.
"Have Brak gather up all forty poisoned daggers. Tell him to wipe the blood off, but leave the poison intact. I want them bundled together."
"And?" Caelindra prompted, knowing there was more to the plan.
"And find a nice box," Kane instructed.
"One just big enough to hold the lead assassin’s severed head. Pack it with enough salt to keep it from rotting during the journey."
Lyssel let out a lodic laugh that felt entirely at odds with the grueso conversation.
"You want to mail a severed head to the Chancellor of the nual Empire."
"He operates on logic," Kane reasoned, pacing along the balcony.
"n like him sit in clean rooms and move pieces around a map without ever slling the blood. I conjecture that dropping a rotting head onto his paperwork will completely short-circuit his delicate sensibilities."
"What about a letter?" Caelindra asked, pulling out a fresh sheet of parchnt.
"Do you want to dictate a formal warning?"
"No," Kane shook his head.
"Formal warnings sound like polite negotiations. I just want a simple note tucked right between the dead man’s teeth."
’Make him think he is playing a ga he doesn’t understand,’ Kane sched.
"Write this," Kane commanded softly.
"Your math is wrong. Recalculate."
Caelindra raised an eyebrow but scribbled the words down perfectly.
[Diplomatic Action Initiated: Psychological Warfare]
[Target: Chancellor Morvak]
[Effect: Opponent rationale destabilization pending]
Down in the courtyard, Brak was already kicking corpses over, happily collecting the wicked little daggers.
The young warrior paused, looking up at the balcony with a wide, blood-sared grin.
"Chief!" Brak yelled enthusiastically.
"Do we get to eat the fancy silk those nobles sent?"
"No, Brak," Kane sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"We wear the silk. We drink the wine."
"Seems like a waste of good at," Brak mumbled, going back to looting the bodies.
Turning back to his operators, Kane found Lyssel watching him with a mixture of hunger and respect.
"The package will leave Sylvandar by noon," Lyssel promised, standing up to gather her notes.
"Morvak should receive it in three days. He’ll not sleep well for a very long ti."
"That’s the general idea," Kane said.
Caelindra gathered her ledgers, preparing to coordinate the smugglers.
"The queen is going to summon you soon. She cannot ignore forty dead foreign operatives stacked in her city."
"I just did her dirty work for free. The least she can do is offer a promotion."
Leaving the balcony, Kane headed back inside to wash the dried gore off his chest.
Surviving an assassination attempt was just another Tuesday, but turning it into a continent-spanning psychological weapon?
That felt like winning.
The next morning, the Knights of Elfheim rode through the quiet city streets.
They didn’t bother kicking the courtyard gates down or demanding anyone’s surrender, instead choosing to stand politely among the drying bloodstains while waiting for Kane to finish his tea.
Royal summons rarely ca with such polite, well-ard escorts, which told Kane the elven queen desperately wanted a private conversation rather than a public execution.
Walking into the royal war room an hour later, Kane fully expected a noisy council of panicking politicians throwing bla around.
Finding the queen alone, leaning gracefully over the grand map table, changed his entire tactical calculation in a single heartbeat.
’She purposely sent the useless advisors away,’ Kane realized, instantly appreciating the quiet, charged intimacy of the vast room.
The map of the continent stretched between them, but her attention remained entirely fixed on him.
Wearing an erald gown that hugged her curves rather dangerously, the ancient ruler did not look like a frightened woman facing a sudden diplomatic crisis.
User Comments
0 comments from readers