The fall of Lord Alistair Dorne sent ripples through the noble circles like a stone breaking the surface of a still lake. Whispers spread through corridors, masked behind hushed voices and wary glances.
Who did it?
Who had the power to bring down a noble so swiftly, so completely?
But in the heart of this chaos, one man remained silent. Watching. Calculating.
Duke Valmore sat in his study, fingers steepled before him, his expression unreadable. A storm brewed in his sharp, calculating eyes as he sifted through the reports scattered across his desk.
Alistair's downfall was not a coincidence. Someone orchestrated it.
And that someone was dangerous.
He tapped a single document with his finger. A detailed breakdown of the charges against Dorne. The evidence was too clean, too precise.
No loose ends. No apparent mistakes.
A master's work.
Valmore exhaled slowly. This was not the work of an ordinary noble scheming for power. This was something… more.
And then there was the name that kept surfacing in murmured conversations—Lucien.
He picked up another document, a profile on the enigmatic young man who had appeared out of nowhere.
No verifiable background. No lineage of note. No past.
And yet, in a few short weeks, he had inserted himself into high society.
Valmore narrowed his eyes. Too fast. Too precise.
Was it coincidence that Dorne had tried to recruit him just days before his fall?
No.
Nothing about this was a coincidence.
A cold smile crept onto the duke's lips.
"If it's a game of shadows…" he murmured, "…then let's see whose darkness is deeper."
A Gathering Storm
Lucien sat in his private quarters, gazing out the window at the city below. The air carried the scent of rain, the sky heavy with unfallen storms.
He had expected Alistair's fall to shake the nobles, and it had. But what truly interested him was the response of Duke Valmore.
He's watching me now.
That was inevitable. A mind like Valmore's wouldn't ignore a shift in power. He would investigate, analyze, wait.
Lucien smiled slightly.
That was fine.
The most dangerous enemy was not the one who struck first. It was the one who moved last.
A soft knock on the door.
Lucien didn't turn as Seraphina stepped inside, her presence light as a whisper.
"You're being watched," she murmured.
Lucien exhaled, a chuckle escaping his lips. "Of course."
She moved to stand beside him, watching the city as well. "Valmore is not like Alistair. He won't be so easily manipulated."
Lucien turned to her, his gaze steady. "I know."
She studied him for a moment, her violet eyes unreadable. "Then what's your move?"
Lucien's smile deepened.
"The same as always," he said softly.
"I let him believe he's winning."
The Duke Makes His Move
Two days later, an invitation arrived.
A formal summons to Duke Valmore's estate.
Lucien read the letter, his expression calm. The message was clear—a test, a challenge, an opening move.
A normal man would hesitate.
Lucien simply folded the letter, slipping it into his coat pocket.
Then, without a word, he walked out the door.
The game had begun.
End of Chapter 9