The truth from Bernard was a bucket of cold water. Prince Cedric was digging, and he was getting close. I had the amulet, a weapon of unimaginable power, but I needed to use it strategically. I couldn't waste its single daily question on small fears or simple confirmations. I needed a big win. I needed to uncover a threat so large that Cedric would be forced to look away from me.
My first target wasn't a noble. It was the rats in the walls. The servants. They saw everything, heard everything. And thanks to my interface, I could easily find one with low Favor and high Corruption. A disloyal one.
It didn't take long. A footman named Gregor. He was a tall, lean man with shifty eyes who always seemed to be lingering where he shouldn't. My interface confirmed my suspicion. Gregor: Favor: -10. Corruption: 60. He disliked me and was open to shady dealings. Perfect.
I called him to my private study two nights later. The room was dark, lit by a single lamp on my desk. I made sure the amulet was plainly visible, sitting on the polished wood next to a small purse of gold.
He entered, bowing stiffly. "You called for me, my lord?" His eyes darted to the purse and then to the amulet.
"Gregor," I began, my voice calm. "I know you find your wages… insufficient. I also know you have… other employers."
He paled, but tried to bluff. "My lord, I don't know what you—"
I held up a hand, cutting him off. "I'm not here to punish you. I'm here to make you a better offer." I picked up the amulet, letting the silver chain dangle from my fingers. It caught the lamplight. "This is a holy relic. It brings clarity and honesty to the wearer. Put it on."
His eyes widened in suspicion and fear. "Why?"
"Because I am offering you five times your annual salary, right now, in that purse," I said, my voice dropping to a whisper. "All you have to do is put this on and answer one question truthfully. No consequences. The gold is yours regardless."
It was a lie, of course. There would be consequences, just not for him. But the greed in his eyes was overpowering. His Corruption stat flickered to 65. He wanted that gold.
Hesitantly, he reached out and took the amulet. He fumbled with the clasp for a moment before securing it around his neck. The silver looked cheap and tawdry against his servant's livery.
The moment it clicked shut, I felt the familiar drain of energy from the amulet. The compulsion was active.
I leaned forward, my elbows on the desk, my gaze locking with his. "Gregor. Tell me the most damaging secret you have learned while spying for House Croft."
House Croft was a rival to my own family. It was a guess, but a good one.
The change was instant. Gregor's face went slack. His shifty eyes glazed over. He tried to clamp his mouth shut, but his jaw trembled, forced open by the magic.
"No…" he grunted, a vein throbbing in his forehead. The struggle was brutal to watch. Sweat broke out on his brow. But the amulet's power was absolute.
"The… the trade deal," he choked out, the words fighting their way past his lips. "The one with the Maritime Guild. Lord Croft… he… he plans to sabotage the royal shipment. He's having his men replace the high-quality silk with cheap imitations. The royal seal will be forged. He'll blame the guild… pocket the difference… and discredit your father, who brokered the deal."
The words poured out of him, a torrent of treachery. He gave names, dates, the location of the warehouse where the swap would happen.
I sat back, the cold satisfaction settling in my bones. This was it. This was more than I could have hoped for. Not just a secret, but a full-blown plot against the crown itself. High treason.
The compulsion faded. Gregor gasped, stumbling back a step. He clutched at the amulet, yanking it off as if it were a hot coal and throwing it onto my desk. He looked at me, his face a mask of pure terror. He had just signed his employer's death warrant.
"The gold, Gregor," I said calmly, pushing the purse toward him.
He didn't need to be told twice. He snatched the purse and fled from the room without another word.
I was alone. I had the information. Now, I had to decide what to do with it. I could go to my father, but that would raise questions about how I discovered the plot. I could go directly to the king, but that was too bold, too flashy.
No. There was a better way. A more surgical way.
I went to see Lyra. I found her in her office at the city watch headquarters. She was reviewing reports, her face a stony mask. When I entered, she stood, her posture rigid.
"My lord," she said, the title still sounding like a curse.
"I have a task for you," I said, not bothering with pleasantries. "There is a warehouse in the docks district. The old salt storage, by the third pier. You will raid it tonight. You will find evidence of treason there—forged royal seals and stolen silk. You will arrest the men inside."
She didn't ask how I knew. She just nodded. "On what charge shall I make the arrests?"
"Act on your own authority as Captain of the Watch," I said. "You received an anonymous tip. Discovering the plot will be your victory. Your success."
Understanding dawned in her eyes, mixed with fresh self-loathing. I was giving her a triumph, a boost to her career, all built on the foundation of her enslavement to me. She would be praised for the very thing that had broken her.
"It will be done," she said, her voice hollow.
The raid happened that night. It was a spectacular success. Lyra and her guards caught Lord Croft's men red-handed. The evidence was overwhelming. The news spread through the court like wildfire the next morning.
Knight-Captain Lyra was hailed as a hero, her sharp instincts and dedication saving the crown from a major embarrassment and financial loss. Lord Croft was arrested, his house disgraced.
My father came to see me, a rare event. He clapped me on the shoulder, a grim smile on his face. "Croft was a fool. But it's good to see that viper's nest cleaned out. It strengthens our position."
I just nodded. My work was done.
I watched from a distance as Lyra received a commendation from the prince. Her face was a perfect mask of humble duty, but I could see the turmoil in her eyes. My interface showed her Favor for me was still a solid -45, but her Corruption had ticked up to 14. She was being corrupted by her own success, a success I had forced upon her.
I had tested the amulet, and it had worked beyond my wildest dreams. I had uncovered a major plot, eliminated a rival house, strengthened my family, and boosted the profile of my most powerful agent—all with a single question.
I held the amulet in my hand, its metal now feeling warm, almost alive with potential. Every person was now a book I could open and read, one page per day.
The power was dizzying. I was no longer just reacting to threats. I was creating the board, moving the pieces, and writing the story. Cedric's investigation, the other noble houses, even the prince and the heroine themselves—they were all just subjects for my next question.
I had become the master of the game. And the game, I now knew, was utterly, terrifyingly mine to win.