The knock at the study door came soft but urgent — three taps, a pause, then two more. A coded pattern used only when news was too important to wait for morning.
Alexander's voice filtered through the wood, filled with unease.
"My lord… a rider from the capital has arrived. He bears an imperial seal."
Veinhelm exchanged a brief look with Silvia. Her posture shifted almost imperceptibly — not alarmed, but alert, eyes narrowing beneath her hooded shadow.
"At this hour?" Veinhelm said.
Alexander didn't reply, which was enough of an answer .
Veinhelm opened the door.
A courier stood there, young and exhausted, cloak heavy with cold night air, dust clinging to every crease. He held out a black envelope sealed with gold wax — the crest of the Imperial Council: a coiled dragon encircled by thirteen stars.
"High Lord Drakan…" the courier said, voice wavering from fatigue and nerves. "This was to be delivered directly to your hands."
Veinhelm accepted the envelope without ceremony.
Silvia moved just close enough to observe without intruding. Her gaze lingered on the seal, and her expression tightened.
"That symbol," she murmured, "is only used for two kinds of correspondence: Endorsement… and traps."
Veinhelm unfolded the letter.
His gaze moved down the page. The faintest curl touched one corner of his mouth.
Alexander inquired, "What is it?"
Veinhelm replied " a party "
{ To High Lord Veinhelm Drakan,
You are cordially invited to the Imperial Winter Gala, held in the Capital Hall of Radiant Crowns, seven nights from today. }
Alexander blinked. "A… party?"
Silvia inhaled sharply.
"No. Not a party. Winter Gala is the gathering of all imperial houses, generals, mages, council members and even foreigners. Invitations are extended only to important figures the empire wants under close watch."
Alexander read an attached note out loud:
"Attendance is required,
as the Emperor himself wishes to congratulate you
on your swift 'resolution' of the Lathias Incursion."
Silvia stiffened.
Alexander muttered, "But… but that wasn't a resolution. They tried to ki—"
Silvia cut him off.
"That line is a warning. They're pretending to praise him. But what they really want is to see how he survived."
Veinhelm folded the letter slowly.
"They want to measure me," he said. "See if I'm injured… or if something happened."
Silvia met his eyes.
"An invitation like this is more dangerous than an assassination attempt."
"Good," Veinhelm said softly.
Alexander stared at him. "Good?! My lord, the imperial gala is practically a nest of vipers! Every noble in the empire will be watching—"
"That's exactly why it's good."
Silvia frowned "How?"
Veinhelm set the letter down on the desk, tapping the wax seal with a finger.
"If they want to see what I've become," he said, "then I'll give them something worth watching."
The torches flickered as if reacting to the shift in mood.
Silvia folded her arms, studying him.
"Then we should begin preparations," she said. "Surrounded by nobles, generals, and the emperor himself… you will not survive without a strategy."
Veinhelm smirked faintly.
"Oh, I have a strategy."
"And what is it?" Silvia asked.
He rose from his seat, cloak rustling like a shadow unfurling.
"To walk into their den," he said, "and make them wonder whether inviting me was a wise decision."
Silvia exhaled through her nose — equal parts irritation and curiosity.
Alexander whispered, "Gods help us…"
But Veinhelm only smiled.
The empire had extended its hand.
And now… he intended to bite it.
*
*
*
Later at night,
The council chamber was already lit when I arrived.
It shouldn't have been.
Midnight meetings were reserved for crisis—war declarations, assassinations of high nobles, or imperial decrees.
Apparently tonight qualified.
Twelve officials sat in a crescent around the obsidian table, each dressed in formal black with the Drakan crest stitched in silver thread. Most of them older than me. Many of them despised me. All of them were pretending loyality to me.
As I entered, conversation died like a flame smothered under glass.
Alexander announced with a steady, if slightly too loud voice,
"High Lord Veinhelm Drakan."
Silence deepened.
I walked slowly to the head seat, the chair carved from a single slab of blackened wood, each step echoing in the vaulted chamber. Silvia followed at a distance, hood up once more, but her presence prickled against the room like a quiet blade.
I sat. Said nothing.
Let them stew.
Finally, Councilor Renhal—thin, hawk-nosed, always the first rat to sniff opportunity—leaned forward.
"My lord," he said, voice slick as oiled parchment, "we heard… unpleasant rumors."
I tapped the invitation lightly against the table.
"Rumors spread quickly," I said. "Faster than assassins, it seems."
A few officials stiffened. One cleared his throat. Another avoided my eyes entirely.
They were hoping I wouldn't bring up the assassination attempt.
They were wrong.
I placed the imperial letter in the center of the table. The gold seal gleamed accusingly.
"Before any of you embarrass yourselves," I said calmly, "I've been invited to the Imperial Winter Gala."
A ripple passed through the room.
Not relief nor an excitement, but confusion.
Renhal broke first.
"A-a gala? Surely the empire wouldn't—"
"Invite a Drakan?" I finished. "Yes, shocking. I thought they only encouraged our funerals, not our attendance."
A few officials shifted uneasily.
Renhal forced a laugh. "My lord is humorous tonight."
I turned my gaze on him.
"No," I said. "Your lord is alive tonight."
The implication hit like a thrown brick.
Several officials lowered their eyes.
One audibly swallowed.
Another curled her fingers tightly around the arm of her chair.
Good.
Let them feel the weight of failure. After all, this failed attempt could be a reminder to not mess with their lord.
"My— my lord, I—I assure you—"
"Oh, spare me." I waved a hand. "Half of you wished me dead before my breakfast cooled."
A few officials flinched.
Silvia watched quietly from the shadows.
I leaned back.
"That attack failed. And now the empire wants to see what survived."
Councilor Myrda, old and stone-faced, finally spoke.
Her voice was slow, deliberate.
"You intend to… go to the gala."
It wasn't a question.
"It would be rude to decline an imperial invitation," I said, smiling faintly. "And far more suspicious."
Renhal's voice shook.
"My lord… such events are crawling with enemies. You won't survive without protection. An escort must be chosen. Perhaps someone from one of the—"
"Stop"
The word struck the room like a blade.
"None of you will choose anything," I said. " I will not allow my enemies to walk at my side."
Renhal's jaw tightened.
Myrda folded her hands. "Then who will accompany you, High Lord?"
I let that question simmer, letting their discomfort deepen.
Then I said:
"Simply, none… maybe Alexander alone"
A heavy pause.
His mouth opened like a dying fish.
Every heart in the room thudded at once.
I drummed my fingers on the table.
"Tell the stable to prepare. We depart in seven days."
Myrda inclined her head.
"A-as you command."
I rose from the seat. The officials scrambled to stand as well, almost tripping over their own chairs.
"Dismissed," I said.
They bowed, a forest of bent spines.
Silvia followed me out. When the chamber doors shut behind us, she finally spoke.
"You enjoyed that."
I didn't look at her.
"Mocking rats who thought I was dead? Yes. A little."
Silvia and I had just descended the second flight of stairs when a guard sprinted toward us, armor rattling, before dropping to one knee.
"My lord! An urgent arrival at the front courtyard!"
Alexander tensed. "Another assassin?"
The guard shook his head quickly.
"No, sir— it is the Head of House Verath."
Silvia stopped mid-step.
"…Verath?" she murmured. "He came personally?"
The guard nodded hard.
"With full entourage. They bear the Verath crest in ceremony, not aggression. The household head requests a private audience with you, High Lord Drakan."
Alexander's.
"The head himself? At midnight? Why all of a sudden?"
I answered before Silvia could.
"Because Lathias overreached… and Verath smelled an opportunity."
Silvia's eyes softened with calculation.
"Indeed. If Lathias attempted assassination on a High Lord and failed… then your survival shifts the scales. Verath would want to see it with their own eyes."
Alexander lowered his voice.
"But… my lord… Verath is proud. They rarely visit anyone on equal standing, let alone in the middle of the night."
I smirked. As far as I remember, Verath house was in a conflict with Lathias. Meeting them might help somewhat.
"That is why we will show them the respect their pride demands."
Silvia gave me a curious look.
"Escort them into the reception hall," I instructed the guard.
"Yes, my lord!"
The guard bolted down the hallway, nearly slipping on the marble.
*
*
*
The reception hall,
The hall was already prepared by the time I entered — fresh candles lit, rugs straightened, an air of solemnity hanging over the room like incense.
My boots echoed softly as I approached the center, Alexander following just behind.
The massive doors opened.
House Verath's delegation entered with graceful precision.
At their front walked Lord Calior Verath, a tall man in deep-blue robes embroidered with silver willows.
He carried no weapons — a sign of respect.
His attendants followed in quiet formation.
Lord Calior paused, then he bowed
A genuine, noble bow — honoring the head of another house.
"High Lord Veinhelm Drakan," he said in a steady, cultured voice. "Thank you for receiving me at such an hour."
I returned the bow with the appropriate depth.
"Lord Verath. Your presence honors my estate."
We straightened simultaneously.
Formal.
This was how noble houses danced when war lurked beneath the floorboards.
"You appear unharmed," he observed gently.
"Surprisingly so," I replied.
Silvia, hood still lowered, stood a respectful distance behind me. Watching. Listening.
Calior's gaze flicked briefly toward her — not dismissive, but assessing — then returned to me.
"High Lord Drakan," he said softly, "I come not as an enemy, I come as a witness."
Alexander stiffened.
Silvia's eyebrows rose subtly.
Calior continued:
"Rumor claims House Lathias committed a grave sin tonight. I wished to see with my own eyes… whether their arrogance was truly so large as to attempt assassination of a High Lord. "
I answered calmly:
"Rumors are often exaggerated. This one, however…"
I let the pause linger.
"…has some merit."
No shock crossed Calior's face.
Only acceptance.
As if he had expected nothing less.
"I see."
He inclined his head.
"Then this night was more dangerous than I thought."
Silvia stepped forward slightly — still respectful, still silent.
Calior noticed the movement and dipped his head politely toward her, acknowledging her presence without prying.
He understood etiquette.
I gestured toward the seating area.
"Please, Lord Verath. Let us speak."
Calior moved toward the cushions, his robes whispering across the stone floor.
Before sitting, he spoke once more:
"I assure you, High Lord Drakan, I do not come seeking advantage. Only clarity of some of my suspicions."
He met my eyes.
"Tell me," he said softly.
"What truly happened here tonight?"
Lord Calior lowered himself onto the cushion with dignified ease, his posture flawless. I sat opposite, maintaining the same level of etiquette. Silvia withdrew a single step behind me, hands folded neatly, eyes half-shadowed beneath her hood.
"Rumors, as you know," Calior began, "shift like smoke. But when multiple sources whisper the same story… one must take it seriously."
I nodded mildly.
"Indeed. Which story reached your ears?"
He met my gaze directly, without flinching.
"That Lathias' prized assassin, entered this estate tonight…"
A beat.
"…and did not leave."
Silvia didn't move, but the faintest tension rippled in her presence — subtle approval of Calior's directness.
I answered calmly, my voice a steady line:
"Oh Sebastian indeed entered with the intention of ending the Drakan bloodline."
I allowed a slight pause.
"I am, as you can see, still standing."
Calior absorbed this without blinking.
"You speak without dramatics," he said. "I appreciate that. Panic is unbecoming of a Lord."
He sipped his tea.
"And Sebastian? Did he flee? Or was he… stopped?"
A gentler word than killed, but with the same cut.
I leaned back slightly.
"That depends," I said quietly, "on how you define stopped."
Calior's eyes flicked with surprise, interest and curiosity as well. The most obvious sign was that he liked the news.
He understood.
He did not press further — a sign he knew where noble etiquette demanded the line be drawn.
" I did not come seeking evidence. I came seeking truth."
He looked at me again.
"And I have found enough."
He placed his cup down with careful precision. The death of a valuable soldier from Lathias seemed to please him.
"High Lord Drakan, allow me to offer a piece of advice — not as a rival, but as someone who has long watched Lathias."
The room became a held breath.
"Speak," I said.
Calior set his teacup aside with deliberate calm and folded his hands in his lap.
"High Lord Drakan," he began, "Lathias will not try to kill you again. At least not for now, they will try other means. "
Silvia's eyes flicked upward, alert.
Alexander blinked in confusion. "Then what will they do?"
Calior exhaled quietly, as though weighing how much truth to reveal.
"Assassination was the blunt approach," he said. "It failed. And failure has consequences for Lathias… consequences they must now hide."
The death of their favorite soldier was already a huge loss, they wouldn't waste more.
He leaned forward, voice dropping to something razor-thin.
"What they will attempt next is far subtler, yet far more effective."
A cold thought slid through my mind.
Politics.
Calior nodded slowly, as if reading my silence.
"They will not strike at your life," he said. "They will strike at your honor."
Silvia's brows narrowed beneath her hood.
Alexander's posture stiffened.
Calior continued:
"As we speak, Lathias is weaving a narrative. They will attempt to undermine your position before the Winter Gala—spread doubts, twist tonight's events, paint you as unstable, incompetent, or complicit in your own attack."
He let those words settle like dust over polished stone.
"They will turn your survival into suspicion."
So that was their move. I knew it, Lathias will go through all means to get rid of veinhelm. Cunning bastards… let's see how your pathetic ploy will end.
" I see… "