The city of Valeria had settled into a calm, deceptive stillness by the time Aran returned to his study. The moon was hidden behind thick clouds, casting only the faintest of glows over the streets. Inside, the flickering candlelight danced against the walls, the flame mirroring the fire that burned inside Aran's mind. He stood at his desk, examining the parchment with the names of Kade Voss' inner circle, his mind racing with the possibilities of his next move.
His eyes lingered on one name: **Dorian Marlek**, Kade's most trusted lieutenant. A ruthless and cunning man, Dorian had a reputation for eliminating anyone who threatened Kade's rule, no matter how minor the offense. He was a perfect target. Not only would removing Dorian destabilize Kade's power base, but it would also send a message: no one in the Shadow Hand was untouchable.
Aran's fingers brushed over the parchment, formulating a plan. Dorian was known for keeping a low profile, rarely making public appearances. His only vulnerability was his ego. Aran had learned from his spies that Dorian fancied himself a master strategist, often engaging in games of chess with other high-ranking members of the underworld. It was during these private games that Dorian would let his guard down, believing himself to be untouchable in the safety of his mansion.
That was where Aran would strike.
A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. He remained silent for a moment, then called out, "Enter."
The door creaked open, and Ravenna stepped inside, her expression as calm and unreadable as ever. She closed the door behind her and approached the desk, standing across from Aran.
"Everything is in place," she said, her voice low and steady.
Aran nodded. "Good. Our first target is Dorian Marlek."
Ravenna's eyes flickered with interest. "Dorian? That's ambitious."
"He's the cornerstone of Kade's power. If we take him down, Kade will be weakened, vulnerable," Aran explained. "But we need to be careful. Dorian is no fool."
"And how do you propose we deal with him?" Ravenna asked, leaning against the desk, her gaze sharp.
Aran met her eyes, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "We play to his pride. Dorian considers himself a master tactician, a genius in strategy. He can't resist a challenge—especially when he believes he's already won."
Ravenna raised an eyebrow. "You plan to lure him into a trap?"
Aran nodded. "I've arranged for a chess tournament, hosted by one of Valeria's wealthiest nobles. Dorian has been invited, along with several other influential figures. He won't be able to resist attending, especially if he believes the tournament is an opportunity to assert his dominance."
"And what happens when he shows up?" Ravenna asked, her tone still guarded.
Aran's smile deepened. "I'll be there, of course. I'll challenge him in the final match, and while his mind is occupied with the game, my people will be slipping into his estate, dismantling his network. By the time he realizes what's happening, it will be too late."
Ravenna considered the plan for a moment, her eyes narrowing as she weighed the risks. "And if he suspects something? Dorian isn't one to trust easily."
"He won't suspect a thing," Aran said confidently. "His arrogance will blind him. He'll see the tournament as an opportunity to flaunt his superiority, nothing more."
Ravenna nodded slowly, though her skepticism lingered. "Just be careful. Dorian is dangerous."
Aran's gaze hardened. "I know. That's why he has to be the first to fall."
The two of them stood in silence for a moment, the weight of the plan settling between them. Then, without another word, Ravenna turned and left the room, leaving Aran to his thoughts once more.
---
The night of the tournament arrived quickly, and the atmosphere in the noble's mansion was thick with tension and anticipation. Wealthy guests mingled in the grand hall, their voices low as they exchanged pleasantries and wagers on the upcoming matches. Servants moved quietly through the crowd, refilling goblets of wine and trays of food.
At the far end of the room, a large chessboard had been set up, its polished pieces gleaming under the candlelight. The tournament had already begun, with various participants taking turns at the board, but all eyes were on the final match—Dorian Marlek versus the mysterious challenger.
Aran stood in the shadows, watching the room carefully. He was dressed in simple but elegant clothes, blending in with the nobility around him. His hood remained low over his face, obscuring his identity from those who might recognize him. Tonight, he was just another player in the game, a quiet observer until the time was right.
Dorian had arrived earlier, his presence commanding the attention of the room. He moved with the confidence of a man who believed himself untouchable, his sharp eyes scanning the room for any sign of weakness. He had already won several matches, and the final round was approaching. Aran could see the faint smirk on his face as he surveyed the competition, certain of his victory.
Aran's pulse quickened as the final match was called. He stepped forward, taking his place at the board opposite Dorian. The room fell silent as the two men sat down, their gazes locking in a quiet, intense challenge.
"An interesting choice of opponent," Dorian said smoothly, his voice dripping with arrogance. "I don't believe we've had the pleasure of meeting."
Aran remained silent, simply nodding as he began arranging his pieces. He didn't need to engage in small talk. His moves would speak for themselves.
The game began, and the two men played in near silence, the only sound the quiet clink of pieces moving across the board. Dorian's eyes flickered with amusement as he studied Aran's strategy, clearly underestimating him. But Aran had anticipated this. He played a deliberately cautious opening, allowing Dorian to believe he had the upper hand.
As the match progressed, the tension in the room grew. Spectators leaned in, their eyes darting between the two players as the board shifted back and forth. Dorian's confidence began to waver as he realized that Aran's moves were not as simple as they first appeared. His brow furrowed in concentration, his fingers twitching nervously as he plotted his next move.
By the time Dorian realized he was being outmaneuvered, it was too late. Aran's final move was decisive, trapping Dorian's king in a position from which there was no escape.
Checkmate.
Dorian stared at the board in stunned silence, disbelief flickering across his face. The room erupted in murmurs, the shock of the upset rippling through the crowd.
Aran stood slowly, offering Dorian a small, knowing smile. "Thank you for the match," he said quietly, his voice calm.
Dorian's eyes flashed with anger, but before he could respond, a servant approached, whispering something urgently in his ear. Aran watched as Dorian's expression shifted, the realization dawning on him. His estate was under attack.
Without another word, Dorian stood and stormed out of the room, leaving the chessboard—and his pride—behind.
Aran lingered for a moment, allowing the weight of his victory to settle in the air. The first move had been made. Now, it was only a matter of time before the rest of the pieces fell into place.