I stared at my reflection in the window glass, seeing the pale, exhausted face of a boy who'd spent the night risking everything for his own survival. My hands were soft, uncalloused, weak. The original Kaelen had never lifted anything heavier than a book. I had no combat training, no magical power, no righteous fury to fuel a dramatic rescue.
But I had something else. Something the original story had never accounted for.
I know the script. And I know how to break it.
A knock at my door made me jump. I quickly smoothed my hair and threw on a dressing robe, trying to look like I'd been asleep instead of plotting impossible rescues.
"Young Master Kaelen?" Mira's voice carried its usual note of gentle concern. "Your father requests your presence in the main hall. There's been... an incident."
It's starting.
I opened the door to find Mira's round face creased with worry. Her brown eyes darted nervously down the hallway, as if expecting eavesdroppers to materialize from the shadows.
"What kind of incident?"
"A theft, sir. At the Blackwood estate. They're requesting permission to search our servants' quarters as part of their investigation."
Of course they are. And they'll find exactly what they're looking for, planted in exactly the right place.
I made my voice small and nervous, playing the part of the frightened younger son. "A theft? But why would they want to search our people?"
"I don't know, sir. But Lord Blackwood seemed quite insistent. Your father is... not pleased."
I bet he isn't. Having the Blackwoods nose around our estate is the last thing Father needs right now, especially with the family's financial situation already under scrutiny.
"I'll be down shortly. Thank you, Mira."
She bobbed a curtsy and hurried away, her footsteps echoing down the corridor. I closed the door and leaned against it, mind spinning through the implications.
Lord Blackwood would arrive within the hour, accompanied by his steward and a small contingent of guards. They'd make a show of searching the noble quarters first, finding nothing, before moving on to the servants' wing. Grundy would "suggest" checking the newest servants' rooms, starting with the kitchen staff.
Lyra would be found with the necklace. She'd protest her innocence, of course, but who would believe a lowly maid over a noble's steward? She'd be arrested, tried before a hastily convened tribunal, and sentenced to death before sunset. Justice, noble style.
Unless someone intervened.
Someone like the pathetic third son who everyone ignores.
I dressed quickly, choosing clothes that made me look even more unremarkable than usual. A simple brown tunic, dark trousers, scuffed boots that had seen better days. The uniform of someone beneath notice, invisible to the powerful players about to converge on my family's estate.
The [Rune of Diminishment] called to me from its hiding place, but I left it where it was. I couldn't risk using an unknown magical artifact when I didn't understand its full effects. Better to rely on more mundane tools.
Like social camouflage and the power of being consistently underestimated.
I made my way downstairs, taking the servants' passages instead of the main corridors. The back routes were busier than usual, filled with worried staff members whispering about the impending search. I caught fragments of conversation as I passed.
"...never stolen so much as a crust of bread..."
"...that girl's got more integrity than half the nobles I've served..."
"...something's not right about this whole business..."
Even the servants can smell the setup. But their word won't matter when it comes to a trial.
The main hall buzzed with nervous energy when I arrived. Father stood near the massive fireplace, his face carved from granite as he spoke in low tones with Lucius. Lady Vivienne perched on a velvet chair like a beautiful bird of prey, her emerald dress chosen to complement her sharp features. They all looked up when I entered, and I made sure to stumble slightly on the threshold.
"Ah, Kaelen." Father's voice carried its usual note of disappointed resignation. "Come. We have a situation that requires the family's united front."
United front. Right. As if you've ever considered me part of this family.
I shuffled forward, keeping my eyes downcast and my shoulders hunched. "Mira mentioned a theft?"
"Lord Blackwood's emerald necklace has gone missing," Lucius explained, his golden hair catching the morning light streaming through the tall windows. "A family heirloom worth more than our estate's annual income. He believes one of our servants might have taken it during the harvest festival."
Believes. What a convenient word for 'has been told by his corrupt steward.'
"But that's... that's horrible," I stammered, playing up the shock. "Surely none of our people would do such a thing?"
Lady Vivienne's laugh was like crystal breaking. "Oh, my dear stepson, you have such faith in the common folk. But poverty makes thieves of even the most honest souls."
And corruption makes murderers of even the most trusted servants.
The sound of horses' hooves on cobblestones announced Lord Blackwood's arrival. Through the tall windows, I could see a small procession approaching—a richly appointed carriage flanked by mounted guards, their armor gleaming in the morning sun.
Showtime.
Father straightened his shoulders, assuming the bearing of a lord receiving an equal. "Remember," he said quietly, "we are cooperating fully with this investigation. We have nothing to hide."
Nothing except declining finances, political vulnerabilities, and a son who's been replaced by someone from another world.
The great doors swung open to admit Lord Marcel Blackwood, a man whose presence filled the room like smoke from a fire. He was perhaps fifty years old, with silver-streaked hair and the kind of sharp intelligence that missed nothing. Behind him walked his steward, Marcus Grundy—a thin man with nervous eyes and hands that never stopped moving.
The real thief, hiding behind his master's authority.
"Lord Leone," Blackwood's voice carried the weight of old money and older power. "I appreciate your willingness to assist in this matter."
"Of course, Marcel. Anything to help recover your family's treasure." Father's diplomacy was flawless, but I could see the tension in his jaw. "Though I must say, I'm surprised you suspect one of our people. They've all been with us for years."
Except for the newest ones. Like a certain kitchen maid who started working here three months ago.
Grundy stepped forward, his voice oily with false concern. "My lord, in my experience, it's often the newest servants who pose the greatest risk. They haven't yet developed proper loyalty to their employers."
There it is. The setup, delivered right on schedule.
Blackwood nodded gravely. "Grundy makes a valid point. Perhaps we should begin our search with your most recent hires?"
And there's the trap, closing around Lyra's neck.
I watched the conversation unfold like a stage play, every line delivered exactly as the script demanded. In an hour, they'd find the necklace. In six hours, Lyra would be dead. The wheels of injustice would turn with the inexorable force of a grinding mill, crushing an innocent girl to preserve the reputation of a guilty man.
Unless someone threw a wrench into the gears.
Someone invisible. Someone nobody would suspect of having the knowledge or courage to interfere.
I cleared my throat hesitantly, drawing surprised looks from everyone in the room. "Um... if I may suggest something?"
Father's expression could have frozen water. "Kaelen, this is not the time for—"
"No, please," I interrupted, letting my voice crack slightly. "I just... I know some of the servants. The newer ones, I mean. Maybe I could help with the search? I might notice if something seems... wrong?"
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