The banquet sparkled on the surface—wine flowing, music swelling, laughter echoing across marble and gold.
But beneath it all, war had begun.
Kael Ardyn moved like a blade through velvet. Every glance, every whisper, every raised glass was part of the game. And tonight, the board had been set for him.
He would not falter.
As he stepped away from the Emperor's throne, a chill brushed his nape.
Not a breeze. A presence.
Then—a whisper of silk. A flicker of shadow. And something slipped into his palm.
Kael didn't stop walking. He unfolded the note beneath the veil of his cloak.
The shadows watch. Leave if you value your life.
He didn't pause.
A trap. A test. Or worse, a message from someone who saw more than they should.
Kael smiled faintly.
He would not run. He would watch.
Let the shadows come.
Moments later, she returned—Queen Isolde of Veyland—like a storm wrapped in moonlight. Her sapphire gown shimmered, clinging like danger made flesh.
"You draw attention well, Duke Kael," she murmured, brushing past him with the grace of a hunting cat. "I find myself… curious."
Kael raised an eyebrow. "Curiosity is the first step toward an alliance. Or a seduction."
She tilted her head. "Or a betrayal."
He met her gaze. "I don't fear any of the three."
She leaned in. "Good. Come with me. There are things better spoken away from eyes that pretend not to see."
Kael gave a shallow bow. "Lead the way, Your Majesty."
They had taken three steps before death came calling.
A whisper of motion.
Steel slicing air.
Kael's instincts screamed. He twisted—just in time to avoid a blade aimed for his throat.
The assassin's dagger hissed past his cheek.
Kael spun, snatching a silver tray from a passing servant and smashing it into the attacker's skull. The impact sent the man crashing into a pillar.
Another dropped from the ceiling—twin daggers gleaming with poison.
But Kael wasn't the only one prepared.
Isolde moved.
With terrifying speed, she unsheathed a narrow blade from a slit in her dress and carved a line across the assassin's neck. The man crumpled before his scream could escape.
Blood spilled over the pristine marble like spilled ink on a royal decree.
Kael stepped back, smirking. "Efficient."
Isolde flicked the blood from her blade with a single practiced motion. "You're not the only one who plays dangerous games, Kael Ardyn."
Then the banquet shattered.
Screams echoed as shadows moved—silent killers rising from corners, balconies, even behind noble masks.
The palace became a battleground.
Kael moved with precision—one assassin lunged, and Kael caught their wrist mid-strike, twisted it until bones cracked, and drove his dagger between their ribs.
Another came from behind. Kael ducked, swept a foot under them, and drove his knee into their jaw as they fell.
Blood sprayed. Nobles scrambled. Magic flared.
And through it all, the Emperor sat unmoved on his throne.
Watching.
He knew, Kael thought. He planned this.
This wasn't an attack.
It was a test.
A purge.
From the corner of his eye, Kael saw Aldric leap into the fray, his blade cutting down a masked assailant. But the Hero's movements were erratic. Hesitant. Controlled chaos.
Kael was the opposite.
He didn't flinch. He didn't waste energy.
He dismantled.
By the time the last assassin collapsed to the floor—throat opened, chest punctured, soul severed—the room fell to silence.
And the Emperor stood.
The hush that followed was absolute.
"Interesting," Alden Vetra said, his voice echoing through the blood-soaked air.
He descended the dais slowly, his hands clasped behind his back, as if admiring a performance.
His gaze fixed on Kael.
"You handled yourself well, Duke Kael."
Kael wiped his blade with a servant's silk and offered a smirk. "Your Majesty throws fascinating parties."
The Emperor chuckled darkly. "And you pass fascinating tests."
He gestured toward the carnage. "These… assassins were real. But so were the eyes watching."
A servant approached, holding a velvet box on a black pillow.
Kael opened it.
Inside: a signet ring, forged from gold and obsidian, bearing the Imperial Crest of Power—a raven piercing a serpent.
Symbolic. Intentional.
The Emperor's voice rang like a decree.
"Welcome, Kael Ardyn… to the Empire's true games. You are now one of my chosen."
The nobles whispered. Queen Isolde smiled. And Kael?
He simply slipped the ring onto his finger.
The game had changed.
And Kael had just moved to the inner circle.
To be continued…