The news of the massacre at the black market spread through the capital like wildfire, within mere hours. Whispers of nobles and nouveau riche blood staining the streets filled the air, chaos unfolding in the wake of the carnage. The King and his investigators scrambled to make sense of it all, trying to restore order to the disarray.
But they wouldn't get far. There would be no leads to follow, no trail to piece together, because I was the one who had slaughtered them, and Lyall's men had ensured that all traces were wiped clean.
The disappearance of the documents, the absence of the Lord who had overseen the operation, would be the perfect puzzle for them to struggle with. It would be their mystery to chase, but I knew better than to think they'd ever solve it.
"I checked all the documents, Master," Lyall's voice crackled through the communication device as I sat back in the armchair, tea in hand.
