"A king who does not see the knife behind his throne is already dead."
---
The Cost of Defiance
Blood dripped from Aedric's blade. It pooled at his feet, dark against the moonlit stone of the academy's rooftop. The assassin's body lay limp, his last breath stolen by the cold night air.
The remaining attacker had fled into the shadows, but not before leaving behind a whisper.
"The Black Veil watches."
Aedric's grip on his sword tightened.
They had moved faster than he anticipated.
He knew challenging the academy's secret rulers would draw attention, but an assassination attempt this soon?
They were afraid of him.
Or worse—they were testing him.
Footsteps echoed behind him. Aedric turned, blade still drawn, only to meet the sharp gaze of Seraphine Vael.
Dressed in her usual midnight attire, she stepped over the fallen body with a smirk.
"Sloppy work, darling. You let one escape."
Aedric wiped the blood from his blade with controlled ease.
"It was intentional. I want them to know I am not hiding."
Seraphine arched an eyebrow.
"Bold. But boldness without strategy is suicide. The Veil doesn't fight in the open, Aedric. They work in shadows, whispers, and poison. If they wanted you dead, they wouldn't send a blade. They'd send a friend."
Aedric's jaw tightened.
She was right.
This was just the beginning.
And if he didn't act first, he would be nothing more than another forgotten name in Velmira's archives.
---
A Game of Masks
The next morning, Velmira Academy was abuzz with rumors.
A dead man had been found on the rooftops. The guards claimed it was a thief—an outsider who met an unfortunate fate.
But Aedric knew better.
The Black Veil had erased their assassin's identity. No insignia. No family. No records.
They had erased his very existence.
A lesson. A warning.
But Aedric did not fear warnings.
He thrived on them.
Walking into the great dining hall, he felt the weight of a hundred eyes on him. Some wary, some amused, others filled with quiet malice.
Among them, Professor Aldren Kael sat at the faculty table, drinking his morning tea with calculated ease. Their eyes met.
Kael lifted his cup slightly, as if in silent acknowledgment.
Aedric smirked.
The professor had connections to the Arcane Council, which meant he had ties to the Veil.
And now, Aedric was on his radar.
"Good."
---
The Gathering of Seven
Aedric met his allies in the depths of the academy's underground chamber—a place untouched by instructors or spies.
The air was damp, the flickering torches casting jagged shadows against the stone walls.
The Seven stood before him.
Seraphine, leaning against a pillar, her daggers twirling between her fingers.
Reynar, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
Elara, seated on a broken altar, her magic humming softly around her.
Dain, always watching, always calculating.
Ilyra, silent but perceptive, her presence grounding.
Veydris, pacing, restless as always.
They were all waiting.
Aedric met each of their gazes before speaking.
"The Black Veil has made its move. They sent assassins. They wanted to see how I would react."
Reynar scoffed.
"Then let's give them an answer."
Aedric shook his head.
"Not yet. We need to be patient. Striking now would be playing into their hands."
Elara smirked.
"So what's the plan, then? Sit and wait for them to send another assassin?"
Aedric's eyes darkened.
"No. We make them think they've already won."
---
The Web of Deception
Aedric knew the Black Veil thrived on control. They didn't just eliminate threats—they manipulated them.
So he would let them believe he was falling into their grasp.
He began attending political gatherings he once ignored.
He engaged in discussions with influential scholars.
He played the role of an ambitious student seeking power, gaining the interest of those who truly controlled Velmira.
And soon, an invitation arrived.
A sealed letter, written in an ink that shimmered in the candlelight.
"Aedric Valtherion, you have been chosen to dine with the Council. Your talents have not gone unnoticed."
Aedric let the corner of his lips curl into a smirk.
"Check."
---
The Council's Shadow
The dinner was held in the Academy's highest chamber—a grand hall of marble and gold, where only the most powerful gathered.
Aedric arrived dressed in formal black, every inch of him composed, unreadable.
The room was filled with figures of influence. Professors, noble lords, scholars—and among them, the true architects of Velmira's fate.
Seated at the head of the table was Lord Valtorin, a man whose mere presence commanded silence.
His silver hair and piercing golden eyes gave him an almost ethereal presence.
He studied Aedric with amusement.
"You are an interesting one, young Valtherion. A survivor. A strategist. And yet, you remain untethered by alliances."
Aedric inclined his head.
"Independence is a rare thing, my lord. But even the lone wolf must tread carefully in a forest of hunters."
Valtorin chuckled.
"Well said."
The evening passed in a dance of words, veiled threats hidden behind pleasantries.
And then, as wine was poured and conversation lulled, Valtorin leaned forward.
"You have caught our attention, Aedric. But tell me—what do you seek?"
The room fell silent.
This was the test. The moment that would decide whether he became a pawn or a player.
Aedric met the elder's gaze, his expression calm, deliberate.
Then, with a slow, measured voice, he answered.
"I seek knowledge, my lord. For knowledge is power, and power is the key to true freedom."
A pause.
Then Valtorin smiled.
"Spoken like a man who understands the game."
Aedric lifted his glass.
"I do more than understand it, my lord. I intend to master it."
The gathered lords and scholars chuckled, some intrigued, others wary.
But in that moment, Aedric knew—he had just taken his first step into the lion's den.
---
The Game Shifts
As the dinner ended and the guests dispersed, a whisper brushed against Aedric's ear.
A voice, soft as silk, laced with danger.
"Tread carefully, Aedric. The Black Veil does not forgive arrogance."
He turned—only to find empty air.
His heart pounded, but he kept his composure.
They were watching him.
They had accepted him into their game.
But they did not yet realize—
He was not here to play.
He was here to win.