I stood over Mayer as he hastily scribbled down notes, the dim light of the estate casting shadows across the study. It wasn't enough to have the leader in custody—no, I needed more. There was always more.
"Dig up everything you can find about him," I ordered, my voice steady, yet firm. "I want his name, where he's from, who his family is. Everything."
Mayer nodded, not needing any further prompting. His efficiency had always been one of his more redeeming qualities. He was diligent, loyal, and quick to act. That was why I kept him close. In a world filled with incompetence and treachery, you needed men like him. But even so, I was aware of his limits.
The leader—a pawn, no doubt—was merely a piece on a larger board. I didn't expect much from Mayer's digging, but even pawns could lead you to kings if you knew how to use them. That was the difference between us and the fools running Ravenhood.
By evening, I returned to the Blackthorn estate. The house itself was vast, almost unnecessarily so, with corridors that seemed to stretch endlessly into the dark. The cold stone walls, lined with tapestries that attempted to add some semblance of warmth, never quite succeeded in chasing away the chill that hung in the air. It suited me just fine.
The estate, in its entirety, was a monument to power—an illusion to those who didn't understand what real control looked like. And while the house might have belonged to Blackthorn, it was mine now, and everyone here knew it.
I moved through the halls, my footsteps soft on the polished floors, hands behind my back as I made my way toward my study. It had become my sanctuary, a room with high ceilings, filled with old books that smelled of leather and dust. A massive desk dominated the center, always littered with papers, maps, and documents—just the way I preferred it. The scent of aged parchment was comforting, like the scent of old blood after a battle won.
As I settled into my chair, Mayer arrived, the sound of the door creaking open barely audible.
"Sir," he began, standing just inside the threshold, as he always did—just enough respect to keep his place, yet close enough to be in my immediate service.
"Well?" I prompted, leaning back, hands steepled as I watched him from across the room. The light from the nearby fireplace flickered, casting shadows that danced against the walls.
He approached, holding a folder filled with what I assumed was everything he could find about our bandit leader. He placed it on the desk before me and stepped back. I could see the faintest glint of anticipation in his eyes, but like a good servant, he masked it quickly.
"His name is Fendrel Marlow," Mayer began, tone crisp and efficient. "An average laborer, born and raised in Ravenhood. He has a small house in the town, along the eastern outskirts. A wife and a son—both of them fairly unremarkable. His son is around your age, my lord. Other than that, there's not much else."
I flipped through the papers, glancing at the basic information Mayer had collected. Fendrel Marlow. The name meant nothing to me, of course, but that was expected. Men like him were designed to be invisible—just another face in the crowd, another cog in the machine. The fact that someone had managed to pull him into this mess without leaving any obvious trail spoke volumes.
Whoever was giving him orders knew what they were doing.
"They're careful," I murmured, almost to myself. "Very careful."
Mayer tilted his head slightly, a silent gesture of agreement or perhaps confusion. It didn't matter. The gears in my mind were already turning, piecing together what little we had. Fendrel was a pawn, but his value lay in whoever had sent him.
Whoever it was, they knew Ravenhood inside and out.
"Good work," I said suddenly, offering Mayer the briefest pat on the shoulder. It wasn't much, but it was enough to see the slight shift in his posture. He didn't show it—he never would—but I could tell the compliment had landed. After all, in his eyes, praise from me was rare.
"You did well," I added. A small push, a little affirmation. It wasn't because I cared for his feelings—far from it. But keeping your servants content, even in the smallest ways, ensured their loyalty. And loyalty was a currency I hoarded carefully.
"Thank you, my lord," Mayer said, inclining his head ever so slightly. He composed himself quickly, as always, the perfect image of servitude.
Still, there was something I needed to address.
"Make sure the bandit leader doesn't kill himself," I instructed, my voice taking on a sharper edge. "Men like him—those who are truly loyal—will do anything to prevent information from slipping. If he dies before we get what we need, we're back at square one."
Mayer's brow furrowed slightly, though he didn't let the expression linger. He nodded. "I'll ensure it's done."
"Good," I said, turning my attention back to the papers spread before me. "Keep a close eye on him. He's not worth much to us dead."
I didn't expect Fendrel Marlow to have the answers I sought, not directly. But the fact that he had been so carefully placed, so meticulously hidden among the rabble, meant that he was worth keeping alive. At least, until I figured out who was truly pulling the strings.
"Anything else to report?" I asked, not looking up from the folder.
"Nothing of significance yet, my lord," Mayer replied, his voice steady. "Though I'll continue to gather any information I can."
I waved him off, dismissing him with a flick of my wrist. "See that you do."
As Mayer left the room, I leaned back in my chair once more, fingers tapping lightly on the desk.
Whoever was behind this little bandit uprising, they thought they could hide in the shadows. They believed themselves untouchable, invisible. But I had lived through enough wars, enough betrayals, to know one thing above all else: no one was truly invisible.
Not for long. Not with me watching.
And once I had my sights on them, there would be nowhere left to hide.