As I expected, the Queen had finally begun to make her moves.
She played her ga as I knew she would—whispers planted in tea parlors, subtle remarks exchanged at evening banquets, a slow and calculated attempt to taint reputations through the social web she’d carefully spun over the years. But her thods, though once effective, had grown outdated in the face of what we’d built. This ti, her efforts unraveled before they could take root.
I had already posted people in every circle that mattered—eyes that watched, ears that listened, and mouths that silenced every rumor before it could catch fla. Her words were no match for the truth that had already been set in motion.
The newspapers, serving as both voice and vision of the kingdom’s people, carried the truth that no idle gossip could bury.
The Kingdom’s new heroes—unexpected, unpolished, but undeniably brilliant—had already claid their place in the hearts of both nobles and commoners alike.
Eric, the Shadow Prince, once seen as nothing more than a curse-bearing orphan of the royal house, had shed the chains of his past. With each battle, each decision made on the field and in process of attaining the peace, he had carved a new na for himself. He had risen—not as a shadow—but as a light, blazing steady and sure, the future sun of the kingdom.
Then there was the boy they once pitied—the child who was said to be nothing without parents, fragile, dismissed, forgotten. He now bore the na "God of War." Not as a title born of fear, but of reverence. His strength had been hard-won, his resolve ironclad. He stood not just as a warrior, but as a symbol—of endurance, of pain turned into power.
And finally, my brother, the one they believed would inherit only his father’s softness and none of his mother’s steel. They couldn’t have been more wrong. That soft boy had grown into a blade—sharp, cold, and rciless where it mattered. They called him the Prince of Frost now, and it was his ice that had impaled the kingdom’s enemies on the battlefield beside the blazing sun.
The three of them—fire, frost, and fury—had rewritten their stories in the blood and honor of war.
I couldn’t be prouder.
I folded the newspaper with a slow breath, my fingers lingering for a mont on the inky print. The front page was dedicated to the return of the knights—those who had finally reached ho after a long, bitter campaign. Though Eric and the others were still in Denril, wrapping up the final formalities, their knights had already begun their journey back nearly a month ago, and now, one by one, they were arriving.
An entire column was dedicated to interviews with the returning soldiers.
They spoke of their hardships, of the battles fought and the horrors endured—but more than that, they spoke of the leaders who carried them through.
Eric’s na was the most spoken—his wisdom, his calm under fire, the sheer force of his presence. Knights old enough were now looking up to their future sun with awe and respect.
They praised not only him but also the comrades who stood shoulder-to-shoulder with him. Ralph Greene, Derrick Langland, and Luke Clive—nas which had gained popularity because of exposing a treacherous man—were now spoken with admiration because of their strength and skills in the battlefield. The knights called them valiant, skilled, and loyal. n who did not seek glory but earned it regardless.
I leaned back in my chair and smiled, heart full and quiet with pride.
The Queen may try her tricks, but the world already knew the truth.
And no whisper in a drawing room could drown out the roar of legends being born.
"Master?"
I looked up from the newspaper to find Lyall standing at the edge of my desk, his brows slightly furrowed, lips pressed in a tight line. He looked unsettled.
"Yes?" I asked, folding the paper and setting it aside.
He stepped forward, the crisp envelope in his hand catching the light. He placed it down with deliberate care, almost as though it might explode.
"A letter from the royal palace has arrived."
My gaze dropped to the wax seal—crimson red, etched with the familiar crest.
"Good. I was expecting it."
"You were?" he asked, blinking in surprise.
I nodded, fingers slicing through the seal without hesitation. The contents unfurled like a predictable scene from a play, and I chuckled as my eyes skimd the letter.
"As expected... the Golden Serpent has summoned to the palace."
Lyall stiffened. "But what could she possibly want from you?"
I tilted my head, amusent curling at the corners of my lips. "Try and guess."
He frowned, visibly trying to piece it together when Roan who was sitting at his desk let out a sigh.
"Could it be that she suspects you of backing Prince Eric?" Blake ventured from behind his desk.
"That’s impossible," Julio scoffed before I could reply. "Master’s too ticulous. She wouldn’t find even a thread to follow."
"But what if it’s sothing else entirely?" Es chid in, gasping softly. "What if she’s calling you to propose a marriage alliance? With Princess Colette?"
Three heads turned toward her in unison—Blake and Julio visibly aghast, Lyall bristling.
"You can’t be more dumb if you tried," Roan muttered, running a hand through his hair, clearly peeved.
He shut his book with a soft thud.
"It’s obvious she wants Master’s influence to tilt the power in her son’s favor. The entire kingdom knows his reputation. Founder of the Oasis Foundation, the man with the most powerful information guild across the borders, and let’s not forget—he’s also the underworld boss."
The others looked at him with grudging admiration.
"He’s untouchable, and if she wants to secure her place, she’ll try to tie him to her side by any ans."
"But that’s bad news, Master," Lyall said quietly, concern bleeding into his tone.
"Not really," I replied, sliding the letter aside. "I’ll go, hear her out... and then, I’ll pull the rug out from under her feet."
I stood, my coat swaying with the movent as I rounded the desk. My smirk deepened.
Julio gave a half-laugh and shook his head. "Sotis I’m just glad I’m on your side, Master. I don’t even want to imagine what you’d be like as an enemy."
Just then, a sharp tapping echoed from the glass window behind . I turned my head to find a black-hooded figure hanging upside down outside, suspended midair like an ominous bat.
The three assistants gasped.
Roan, unfazed, stood up and made his way to the window, unlocking and opening it with a sigh. The figure slipped inside with effortless grace and landed silently on the floor before kneeling in front of .
"You seriously need to consider the idea of using the door soti, Slater," I remarked, raising a brow.
"My apologies, Master. Old habits die hard," he replied without lifting his head.
I sighed, but there was no real bite behind it. "What is it?"
Slater reached into his tunic and retrieved a sealed envelope. "This arrived for Lord Devil this morning."
I took it from him, instantly recognizing the sa emblem from the previous letter—the royal seal.
Before I could open it, a knock ca at the door. Lyall opened it, revealing Remi standing on the other side. He bowed respectfully.
"Master, there are—"
He didn’t get the chance to finish. A blur of movent leapt from behind him, bolting straight toward .
"Ah, no!" Lyall reacted swiftly, catching the intruder by the back of the neck mid-air.
"Let go! I’m deprived of my Master! Let hug him, please!" cried a familiar voice.
I couldn’t help the soft chuckle that escaped. "Let her be, Lyall."
He sighed and obeyed, releasing her. Nora flung her arms around like a determined koala, clutching tight.
"Waaah! I missed you, Master. You’re so cruel, sending away like that!" she wailed, burying her face against .
I chuckled and brushed the back of her head gently. Over her shoulder, I noticed Yugo standing beside Remi, watching the scene with mild amusent.
"How are you, Master? It’s been a while," Yugo greeted with his usual easy smile.
"I’m good," I replied with a nod. "What about all of you?"
"I’m good."
"Sa here."
"I’m good now," Nora grumbled dramatically from where she still clung.
I smiled, shaking my head. "Will you let go of now, Nora?"
She looked up at with big eyes and an even bigger pout. "I don’t want to."
It was a good thing I had stationed her at Lord Hawke’s territory and not with Zach—aka Lord Snake—or gods knew what unhinged madness she would’ve evolved into by now.
"She never changes," Slater sighed, standing up from his kneel.
"I’m guessing you two are also here to deliver the envelopes the other Lords received?" I prompted.
"Oh, right!" Nora finally detached herself, rummaging through her vest before handing a second envelope. Yugo followed suit, retrieving his from his coat.
As I expected—each of the three Underworld Lords had been summoned by the Queen. Her intentions weren’t spelled out, but I didn’t need the letter to know what her endga was. Separate invitations on separate dates. Divide and test.
I smirked and set the envelopes down on the desk, then moved back to my seat.
The three assassins stood in a line, posture perfectly straight, hands clasped behind their backs. I picked up my quill and pulled out a fresh stack of parchnt, swiftly penning my responses.
Once the ink had dried, I sealed the letters and handed one to each of them.
"Deliver these to the Lords. Tell them—it’s ti to begin."
Slater and Yugo nodded, slipping the envelopes into their tunics. Nora, however, looked dejected.
"Do I have to leave right away? Can’t I stay just a little longer, Master?"
Before I could answer, the door cracked open and Kai peeked inside. His voice was hesitant.
"Um, Master—"
All three turned toward the door, and Nora’s eyes lit up the mont she saw him.
"Wow! Master’s son!" she cried, eyes gleaming. Before she could lunge, Slater and Yugo grabbed her by the arms.
"At least spare Master’s son—he’s right there!"
"But he’s like a miniature version of Master! How can I not smother him just once?" she argued, eyes still locked on Kai with gleeful obsession.
I sighed as Kai stepped inside, clearly uncomfortable.
"Nora, Yugo, Slater—you’re dismissed."
The n dragged a groaning Nora out, their expressions tired but understanding. The door finally shut behind them, and the room fell quiet.
I gestured for Kai to approach, and he did.
"What is it?"
"Um... Marquis Fairisles is here," he said carefully.
My brows knit. "What?"
He nodded, clearly confused by the visit himself. "He said he wants to speak with you. He’s waiting in the reception room."
"All right," I said, standing up. I turned toward my aides and Lyall.
"I’ll be back."
And with that, I left the room, the weight of strategy and secrets pressing forward into motion.
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