Everything was going according to plan.
Aric reclined in his chair, his gaze tracking the swirling candlelight across his desk. The flames writhed out of control—just like the court ran out of control, ignorant of the hidden hand manipulating their puppets.
Lord Harland Wescott had folded as paper. His terror of dying Wilhelm's fate had made him the ideal pawn. But a single noble wasn't enough.
The next mark had to be larger. Stronger. More deadly.
Aric's gold eyes narrowed.
"Strathmore."
The name rolled off his lips as easily as a sword from its scabbard.
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Cedric and Strathmore stood before him, both waiting for orders.
"The next step won't be silent," Aric said, letting his hands rest in contemplation. "We require someone with influence over more than one group."
Cedric hesitated. "Strathmore has already been shown loyal, my lord. Why him?"
Strathmore sat silent, regarding Aric warily.
Aric grinned, slow and calculated.
"Loyalty is a thin thing, Cedric. It flexes, it changes… and it snaps."
Strathmore did not blink.
Good. That meant he won the game.
"Strathmore," Aric went on, "I require something of you."
"Anything, my lord."
Aric's fingers drummed on the desk. "I need a bargaining chip on Duke Alistair Montclair."
Cedric inhaled a rapid breath.
The Duke of Montclair was among the strongest nobles in the realm. He held control of trade routes, military outposts, and had strong political connections with the royal family.
Bringing him down would be an invitation to war.
Strathmore finally broke the silence, his tone smooth but controlled.
"That is a risky game, my lord."
Aric chuckled. "I never play safe, Strathmore."
There was a silence that hung between the two men.
Then Strathmore nodded. "Then I shall proceed immediately."
For the rest of three days, Strathmore glided through the noble spheres like a specter.
He went to lavish feasts, murmured in covert gatherings, traded ciphered notes with dark agents in the king's court.
Thread by thread, he tugged at the strands of Montclair's authority.
And then—
A crack was found.
Strathmore came back with one morsel of information that turned the entire game around.
"Montclair's been redirecting military money into private coffers," he told him. "Gigantic amounts, my lord. If the word were to get out, he'd be considered a traitor."
Aric's eyes sparkled.
"Then we have our blade."
The Duke of Montclair was not to be underestimated. But power didn't count when a blade was at your throat.
Aric aimed to be that blade.
And when he struck—this kingdom would never be the same.