Aran spent the next few days carefully plotting his counterattack against the Puppeteer. He knew better than to act rashly. Every move had to be calculated, every step forward measured. The Puppeteer was too careful, too skilled to be drawn out by a simple provocation. Aran had to play the long game, dismantling their network piece by piece while keeping his own involvement hidden.
Sitting in his dimly lit study, Aran poured over maps of the city, lists of names, and notes from his informants. His mind was racing with possibilities, each one a potential path toward unraveling the Puppeteer's plans. He had already started planting seeds of discord within the Council, leaking false information that would shift the balance of power in subtle ways. The Council members would soon start questioning each other's loyalties, making it easier for Aran to manipulate them from the shadows.
But his focus remained on one person: Lord Gavron.
Gavron was an influential member of the Council, a man with enough wealth and connections to make or break alliances. He was also a known associate of the Puppeteer, though their relationship was shrouded in mystery. Aran needed to get closer to Gavron, to learn more about his involvement and how deep the Puppeteer's influence ran.
To do that, Aran needed to orchestrate a meeting.
---
Two nights later, under the cover of darkness, Aran stood in a back alley near Gavron's estate, waiting for his opportunity. The air was thick with the scent of damp stone, and the distant sounds of the city faded into the background. His senses were on high alert as he watched the entrance to the estate, hidden in the shadows like a ghost.
A few minutes later, the gates creaked open, and a figure emerged. Aran's eyes narrowed as he recognized Gavron's personal attendant, a man named Rykel. The perfect target.
Aran moved swiftly, silently closing the distance between himself and Rykel. With a quick, precise movement, he grabbed the man from behind, covering his mouth and pulling him into the shadows. Rykel struggled for a moment before going limp, his eyes wide with fear.
"I'm not going to kill you," Aran whispered in his ear. "Not unless you make me."
Rykel nodded frantically, his breath coming in quick, panicked gasps.
"Good," Aran continued. "You're going to deliver a message to your master. Tell him that I know about his dealings with the Puppeteer, and that if he doesn't want his secrets exposed, he'll meet me. Alone."
Aran released Rykel, who stumbled forward, clutching his throat.
"Do you understand?" Aran asked, his voice calm but laced with an underlying threat.
"Yes," Rykel gasped, his eyes wide with terror. "I'll tell him. I'll tell him everything."
"Good," Aran said, stepping back into the shadows. "Now go."
Rykel didn't need to be told twice. He turned and fled back toward the estate, disappearing through the gates.
Aran watched him go, a small, satisfied smile playing at the corners of his lips. The first move had been made. Now all he had to do was wait.
---
The following evening, Gavron arrived at the designated meeting place, a secluded garden outside the city walls. He was alone, as Aran had instructed, though his nervous glances betrayed his unease. Aran had chosen the location carefully—far enough from prying eyes, but close enough to the city to allow a quick escape if necessary.
Aran stepped out from the shadows, his presence sudden and unsettling. Gavron tensed, his hand instinctively moving toward the dagger at his belt, but he stopped short, realizing how futile the gesture would be.
"You came," Aran said, his tone neutral, betraying no emotion.
"You left me little choice," Gavron replied, his voice strained. "What do you want?"
"I want information," Aran said, stepping closer, his eyes locked on Gavron's. "About the Puppeteer."
Gavron's face paled at the mention of the name, and he took a step back. "I don't know anything about them. I—"
"Don't lie to me, Gavron," Aran interrupted, his voice cold. "I know you've been working with them. I don't care about your petty deals or alliances. What I care about is finding out who they are and what they want."
Gavron hesitated, his mind clearly racing as he weighed his options. Aran could see the fear in his eyes, the uncertainty. But fear was a powerful motivator, and Aran was more than willing to use it to his advantage.
"They're not what you think," Gavron said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "They're not just some criminal mastermind. The Puppeteer... they're something more. Something... darker."
Aran's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"
Gavron swallowed hard, glancing around as if expecting someone—or something—to be watching. "I've only met them once, but it was enough. They don't just manipulate people for power or wealth. They have... other goals. And they don't care who they have to destroy to achieve them."
"What kind of goals?" Aran pressed.
"I don't know," Gavron admitted, his voice trembling. "But whatever they're planning, it's not just about controlling the Council or the Black Hand. It's bigger than that. Much bigger."
Aran considered Gavron's words, his mind working through the possibilities. If what Gavron was saying was true, then the Puppeteer was far more dangerous than he had initially thought. This wasn't just a rival playing the same game as him—this was someone with a grander, more sinister agenda.
"I need names," Aran said, his voice hard. "People who are working with them. Anyone who's involved."
Gavron hesitated again, clearly torn between his fear of the Puppeteer and his fear of Aran. After a long moment, he sighed and nodded. "I can give you some names. But you have to promise me that you'll protect me."
Aran's lips curled into a cold smile. "You're already safer with me than you are with them."
Gavron nodded, his shoulders sagging in defeat. He began to list names—council members, merchants, a few high-ranking officials in the Black Hand. Each name was a thread in the Puppeteer's web, a connection that Aran would pull on until the whole thing unraveled.
By the time Gavron finished, Aran had what he needed.
"Thank you," Aran said, turning to leave.
Gavron called after him, desperation in his voice. "What about me? What happens now?"
Aran paused, glancing back over his shoulder. "Now? You disappear. If the Puppeteer finds out you've spoken to me, they'll come for you. You have two choices: run, or wait for them to kill you."
Without another word, Aran vanished into the night, leaving Gavron standing alone in the garden, fear etched into every line of his face.
The game was far from over, but Aran had just gained the upper hand.
Now it was time to see how far the Puppeteer's strings stretched—and to cut them, one by one.