The castle changed slowly.
That was the most dangerous part.
No alarms.
No shouting.
No obvious shifts.
Just… adjustments.
The head chef was replaced.
"Temporary illness," they said.
Two veteran guards assigned to Lucien's corridor were reassigned to outer patrol.
"Strategic necessity."
Servant rotations changed.
Schedules altered.
Doors that used to remain open were now closed.
Locked.
Always locked.
Lucien noticed everything.
He said nothing.
[Territory Stability: 34%]
Castle Authority: Fragmented
Enemy Influence: Increasing
They're not attacking directly.
They're shrinking my world.
Lucien stood near the window of his chamber, watching snow fall beyond iron bars he didn't remember being there before.
When were those installed?
Yesterday?
The day before?
Subtle.
Efficient.
Sir Roland had not visited again.
He didn't need to.
Control didn't require presence.
It required structure.
And the structure was shifting.
A knock came.
Three taps.
Pause.
Two taps.
New pattern.
"Enter," Lucien said.
A different maid stepped inside.
Younger.
Nervous.
Carrying a tray.
"I've brought your dinner, Young Master."
Lucien turned slowly.
The tray looked normal.
Bread.
Stew.
Water.
No milk this time.
Smart.
He approached quietly.
Sat down.
Waited.
The maid didn't leave.
She stood near the door.
Watching.
Not servant behavior.
Observer behavior.
Lucien picked up the spoon.
Paused.
Looked up.
"Are you new?" he asked softly.
The girl startled slightly.
"Yes, Young Master."
"What happened to Lysa?"
Silence.
"She was dismissed."
Dismissed.
Not executed.
Not imprisoned.
Dismissed.
That meant one of two things:
Either they didn't want public attention.
Or she was useful elsewhere.
Lucien dipped the spoon into the stew.
The system flickered.
[Food Status: Safe]
Good.
So tonight isn't poison.
That means—
It's something else.
He took a small bite.
Chewed.
Swallowed.
The maid relaxed slightly.
Then—
Footsteps.
Heavy.
Fast.
The chamber doors opened abruptly.
Sir Roland entered.
No knock.
Just authority.
"Young Master," Roland said smoothly. "I apologize for the intrusion."
Lucien didn't look surprised.
"I was eating."
Roland's eyes flicked to the tray.
Then to the maid.
"Leave us."
She obeyed immediately.
Door closed.
Now it was just them.
Roland stepped closer.
Slow.
Measured.
"The Duke sent a letter," he said.
Lucien's heart skipped.
The Duke?
Already?
"That was fast," Lucien replied.
Roland smiled faintly.
"The situation at the border is unstable. He may not return soon."
There it is.
Planting expectation.
Preparing the castle mentally.
Lucien lowered his gaze.
"Will he die?" he asked quietly.
Roland paused.
Just half a breath.
"I will ensure Valemont survives," he answered.
That wasn't the question.
Lucien looked up.
Eyes calm.
Sharp.
"If he dies… do I become Duke?"
Roland studied him carefully.
"Yes."
Lucien nodded.
"And if I die?"
Silence.
Longer this time.
Roland's expression didn't change.
"Then Valemont will require… guidance."
There it is.
Not grief.
Not denial.
Contingency.
Lucien smiled faintly.
"I see."
The system pulsed violently.
[Critical Realization Triggered]
Primary Objective Updated:
Survive the Next 7 Days
Threat Probability: 78%
Seven days?
So they're accelerating.
Roland straightened.
"You should rest well, Young Master."
He turned toward the door.
Then stopped.
Without looking back, he said—
"Accidents are common in winter."
The door closed.
Silence filled the chamber.
Lucien's small hands trembled.
Not from fear.
From clarity.
He walked to the door.
Tried the handle.
Locked.
Of course.
He moved to the window.
Iron bars secured from outside.
He turned slowly.
The room was no longer a bedroom.
It was containment.
The system interface hovered brighter than before.
[New Skill Available: Minor Authority Pulse]
Effect: Command one lower-ranking individual instinctively for 3 seconds.
Cooldown: 24 Hours
Three seconds.
That's it?
This system really expects creativity.
Lucien sat back on the bed.
Thought carefully.
Seven days.
They're isolating me.
Waiting for Father to either die or lose.
Then they'll remove me quietly.
Blame illness.
Or a fall.
Or winter fever.
No noise.
No scandal.
Clean transition.
Unless…
Unless the Duke anticipated this.
Lucien's eyes slowly lifted.
The Duke had sealed the tower quietly.
Avoided executions.
Sent letters.
And left Roland in charge.
Too obvious.
Too convenient.
Unless—
This is bait.
Lucien's breathing slowed.
If Father suspects Roland…
Then this castle right now is a battlefield.
Invisible.
Silent.
And I'm the center piece.
He lay back on the bed.
Closed his eyes.
Fine.
If they want an accident…
I'll give them one.
But not mine.
Outside the chamber, guards rotated.
Inside the walls, whispers moved.
And somewhere deep in the castle—
A hidden door opened quietly.
The game had officially begun.