《Red Like the Blood Spilt, Black like the Deeds Done》 1 - Jawbreaker "Mikhil, did you break his jaw?" The pale woman, dressed in a moderately regal combination of black and red, inquired sternly as she toyed with her gryphon-headed cane. She was seated on an ornate wooden chair, her yellow eyes fixed intently on her gilded walking stick, as though it were the most fascinating object in the room. Facing her from behind the desk was a balding man with a neatly trimmed white beard, wearing a formal blue tunic and a reticle on his right eye. The desk itself was a battlefield¡ªa chaotic sprawl of papers, ink stains, and books stacked precariously high on the verge of toppling, held only by some kind of common incantation. Several floating quills and sheets of parchment hovered about, sparkling with colorful pixie dust. They scribbled reports, announcements, and graded the dreaded exams. The most out-of-place item was an animated teapot, which, every so often, poured steaming tea into the waiting cup of the man at the desk¡ªthe Head Lectern of this institution. Behind her sat a young man on a chair two paces behind her. Slouched slightly with a bruise on his left cheek and a small scar on his right. The singed edges of his shirt suggested a close encounter with fire¡ªintentional or otherwise¡ªwhile his boot, with a gaping hole, looked as if it had been through a war. The boy shifted slightly, rubbing his purpling knuckles with a wince before muttering his response. "Potentially..." "Potentially?" Another stern inquiry from the woman, still absorbed in fiddling with her avian-capped cane. The Head Lectern cleared his throat¡ªnot because it needed clearing, but because it was the sort of thing one did to attract attention¡ªas he slid a paper towards the disinterested woman across the table in a manner halfway between timid and triumphant. "Report indicates that, this morning, Karl Navkan Balgrodov challenged Mikhil Opetlev to a magic duel, which Mikhil accepted per traditions of Imperial Aristocratic Duels." He adjusted his reticle, clicking and fiddling the little buttons on it before continuing. "The proceedings were carried out within the hour. Both student-combatants donned the required protective gear and entered the Emerald Falcon Arena. It was there that Mikhil, in apparent disregard for theCode of Engagement for Students, abandoned all arcane combat in favor of..." The Head Lectern paused, glancing at the boy behind the woman. The boy stared back, his expression unreadable. "...what he referred to as ''throwing hands.'' A claim corroborated by his repeated battle cries during the altercation according to witnesses." The boy almost smirked while a tiny silent chuckle almost escaped the woman. He paused to shuffle through the pile of papers on his left, pulling another sheet free and slapping it delicately on top of the first.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. "As a result, Karl suffered significant injuries, primarily to his jaw, which, according to the Apothecaries... With a dramatic pause, the Head Lectern stabbed the second page with his index finger. "...was dislodged in a, quote, ''brutal fashion.'' Thankfully, he is expected to recover, though I regret to inform you that Lord and Lady Navkan, and to an extent, the larger House of Balgrodov are decidedly unpleased." The Lectern folded his hands on the table and waited for a response. Silence. "Strange, I heard it was a duel. Non magical means of violence should be allowed via the conventions of mutual combat then." the woman began. The Lectern scratched his head with growing puzzlement, shifting between the paper and the woman. "No, it is clearly a magic duel, I¡ª" The woman produced a satchel with a purplish glow from her hands and gently dropped it onto the table, the unmistakable chime of jingling coins filling the room. The quills stopped midair, their tips hovering inches from the parchment. Even the teapot turned sharply toward the little bag of goodies, as if considering it. This time, a laugh almost escaped Mikhil as the Head Lectern pivoted his gaze between the woman and the satchel. "Lady Anisia, you ca¡ª" Another satchel hit the table before he could finish his sentence. The Lectern looked down the second satchel, and then looked up at Lady Opetlev. Pale Anisia now glared at him, her expression frozen in an aristocratically gentle disposition. "I hear your institution takes Balgrodovian patronage vicariously," she said, leaning in. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Allow us Opetlevs to contribute to this community. The Balgrodovs cannot be hoarding all the glory, can we now?"" A pause hung in the air before the Head Lectern coughed, gesturing toward the floating quills. They hesitated for a moment, then resumed their work. He leaned down, fumbling through a drawer as he muttered. "Oh, silly me, those were umm... unfinished reports, yes drafts. Not meant to be public. The actual report should be around here somewhere..." He continued his act until one of the enchanted quills delivered a freshly written and definitely legitimate report onto the table. The Head Lectern finally leaned back in his chair with a shaky giggle and tapped the papers with his index finger. "Ah, yes, of course, the correct report. Found it. Clearly. There it is, what would I ever do without my animated quills... Yes, right. It was a duel, not a magical duel. While the extent of the physical contact might be questionable, the... throwing of hands, it would seem, is not illegal." The Lectern turned his gaze towards Lady Anisia. "Technically." "Then technically make it so," Lady Anisia demanded tenderly. "Of course, we aim to accommodate." "Obviously," Lady Anisia continued as she shifted herself back and leaned on her chair. "Half the columns here are inscribed with golden lions, the other half are in disrepair. You truly accommodated the Balgrodovs well." With a quick tap of her cane, she stood. "I would infer we have nothing more to discuss?" The Head Lectern nodded, his expression carefully neutral. "Mikhail, we will make our exit." The boy rose slowly, his torn shoe flapping wildly with each step toward the door. "And child, just leave the shoe. We can get you a new one." Mikhail paused, glancing at his mother, then at the Lectern. "...Here?" he asked, uncertainty creeping into his voice. Lady Anisia didn''t reply as she calmly straightened her clothes. Mikhail shrugged, slipped off the shoe, and placed it by the door. The young man and his pale mother exited, walking side by side, leaving the Lectern one mutilated shoe richer. The Lectern glanced at the shoe, then abruptly at the mother standing in the doorway with her yellow eyes glaring into his very soul. A chilling voice seemed to echo through the room, shivering even the animated writing tools that shouldn''t for all accounts feel either warmth nor cold. "Well, surely a bootlicker like you should know what to do with a shoe." II - Pride "Everywhere I go it¡¯s the golden lions, always eating the sun. One truly wonders when it will finally choke on it and just die." The pair had come face to face with a massive banner of a golden sun devouring a lion, draped over the gates to the Lectern¡¯s grand antechamber. Beyond the gates, the hall was abuzz with muted voices and the shuffle of restless feet as servants and students waited to be called. "Perhaps we should give it a sun too irresistible; they have no choice but to devour it?" Lady Anisia continued, her tone sharp with annoyance. "Or perhaps we could just take its head off and feast on the body?" Mikhil interjected, his lips curling into a smirk. "Bold," Anisia replied coolly, "but the lion unfortunately has many friends. Better it dies without getting as much blood on our talons. A gryphon strikes when the time is right¡ªand leaves the vultures and hyenas to clean up the mess." Mikhil shrugged with a twitching smile, stuffing his hands into his pockets. ¡°Less blood, less fun.¡± Lady Anisia gave him a measured look, her fingers resting lightly on her cane. ¡°At least not on us¡±, she said, her tone firm but calm. ¡°Blood attracts other predators. One should never wound ourselves in a hunt lest we become the hunted. This wilderness has many predators; and most prey are already devoured.¡± A brief silence hung between them as mother and son stared up at the banner, its golden lion frozen in its endless feast of a celestial object. ¡°Come, let us leave,¡± Lady Anisia said, her tone as measured as ever. ¡°Let the prideful beast gorge itself to death. We have other, more pressing matters to attend to.¡± Mikhil nodded and stepped ahead, with his mother strode just one pace behind. Together, they moved through the now mostly deserted labyrinth of marble halls, their reflections flickering across mirrored pillars and polished stone as they made their way toward the entrance. Turning a corner, they came face to face with an entourage wrapped in gold and black. The servants crowded around something, their plain but finely embroidered tunics marked with subtle golden thread shaped into the lion crest. Heads bowed and voices hushed, they moved with a practiced efficiency, their hands darting back and forth as though tending to something delicate. They didn¡¯t seem to notice the pair as Lady Anisia and Mikhil approached, their presence swallowed by the quiet hum of activity. At the flanks of the group stood two guards, silent and motionless. The sun-eating lion glared from their chest plates, its golden jaws frozen mid-bite like their wearers statuesque stance. Their armor, layered with plate, mail, and gold, gleamed unnaturally¡ªpolished to perfection, no doubt by some unlucky servant tasked with scrubbing every inch. Though no weapons rested in their hands, small one-handed axes hung from their belts¡ªfunctional, but understated. Small runic inscriptions pulsed softly along their shoulders and gauntlets with a faint amber glow, most likely some kind of magical enchantments casted onto them by arcanists. One of the guards spotted the pair, their posture stiffening as their gaze flicked toward them. Leaning slightly, the guard whispered into the ear of a nearby servant, who turned sharply to look at the newcomers. The servant¡¯s eyes widened as if glimpsing a terrible reckoning, and they quickly moved to the center of the circle, their voice hushed as they delivered the message. The entourage began to shift, spreading like petals of a gilded flower to reveal the ash haired Lady Iruja Navkan Balgrodov, in the middle of rising to a stand. Draped in flowing black and gold silks, her eyes sharply flicking over the approaching pair like a beast sizing up its next meal. Beside her, the wounded cub, Karl Navkan Balgrodov, lay wrapped in bandages like a cocoon, his face pale and swollen. His breaths came shallow and slow, with the faint scent of numbing herbs lingering in the air around him. ¡°Salutations, Lady Navkan.¡± Lady Anisia greeted the lioness heartily, her voice warm and unhurried. As she spoke, her fingers made the faintest of gestures¡ªa subtle, nearly imperceptible signal to Mikhil. The pair came to a stop before Navkan¡¯s pride, Lady Anisia leaning slightly to the left on her cane, while Mikhil squared his shoulders and adopted a stoic, unflinching stance with hands behind his back. "Likewise, Lady Opetlev," Lady Iruja replied, with a stitched smile. "I assume you¡¯ve just returned from the Head Lectern?" she continued, her tone smooth and unbroken. "And I trust he has informed you of the¡­ incident?"If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. ¡°Oh, you mean the incident that left young Karl in¡­¡± Lady Anisia trailed off, lightly tapping her cane against the floor before pointing it at the barely conscious Karl. ¡°... that situation?¡± ¡°Young Karl will recover,¡± Lady Iruja replied, her tone smooth, though a faint twitch in her left eye betrayed her irritation. ¡°But I cannot say the same for your son¡¯s¡­ public perceptions.¡± A soft chuckle escaped Lady Anisia as she leaned forward ever so slightly, her yellow eyes glinting with amusement. ¡°Hear that, Mikhil? Public perceptions?¡± Lady Anisia said with mock jest, lightly patting his back. Mikhil had to steel himself, his lips fighting to suppress a smile. Lady Anisia straightened, her fingers tapping her cane lightly against the floor. ¡°Ever since my son enrolled in this damnable institution we dare to call a school, he has been called an orphan, a bastard, whore son and many other despicable things.¡± Covering her mouth with her gloved hands, Lady Anisia continued with mock incredulity. ¡°Orphan? Whore son? My son¡¯s bloodline may not run in a circle, Lady Iruja, but I assure you, it runs strong. At some point, you have to stop caring, don¡¯t you, Child?¡± Mikhil inclined his head slightly towards his mother. ¡°The lion does not concern itself with the opinions of sheep, after all.¡± He declared with a stoic face that struggled to hide a smile. ¡°Sharp tongue, child. Let us hope your bite matches your bark,¡± she said, spitting the words delicately as her smile thinned. Without missing a beat, Mikhil leaned slightly to the side, his finger lazily pointing toward Karl. ¡°That one didn¡¯t.¡± Karl groaned faintly, though it wasn¡¯t clear if it was in response or merely a reflex of his injuries. The sound hung awkwardly in the air, drawing the servants back into a frenzy as they rushed to tend to him, their hands darting toward his bandaged form. The faint scent of numbing herbs and spices grew stronger as more were applied to dull his pain. Before Mikhil could say another word, a gentle yet firm hand settled on his shoulder, extended from a smiling Lady Anisia. Mikhil leaned back slightly, reasserting a stoic stance, his expression smoothing into practiced composure¡ªas though he hadn¡¯t just been mocking the competition moments ago. ¡°A very passionate child, Lady Opetlev,¡± Lady Iruja said with a smooth tone. ¡°Perhaps he should be taught the virtue of restraint as well¡ªlest he does something reckless in the heat of it.¡± Lady Anisia¡¯s lips curved into a faint smile, her tone as calm as ever. ¡°A young man willing to defend his family¡¯s honor with his own blood on the line is not reckless¡ªhe is dutiful. Passionate, perhaps, but dutiful nonetheless. Any mother would be proud to raise such fine men.¡± ¡°That, I will have to agree with,¡± Lady Iruja said smoothly, though her gaze flicked back to Karl. Lady Anisia tilted her head, her lips curving into a faint smile. ¡°But whether or not it¡¯s successful depends,¡± she said lightly, pausing just long enough for the words to sink in, ¡°perhaps on adequate parenthood?¡± Lady Iruja¡¯s smile faltered for the briefest moment, her sharp eyes narrowing before she recovered. ¡°Adequate parenthood,¡± she repeated with a veiled disdain. ¡°A noble ideal, though one wonders how much depends on the temperament of the child.¡± ¡°Well, the apple doesn¡¯t fall far from the tree,¡± Lady Anisia said, her tone light and conversational. ¡°Though it¡¯s a blessing that mine came from another basket, wouldn¡¯t you agree?¡± Lady Anisia tapped her cane lightly against the floor, a mock chuckle escaping her lips. ¡°Well, it seems we have both wasted enough time indulging in petty squabbles,¡± she said, her tone light, almost airy. ¡°I¡¯m sure you have far more pressing matters to attend to. As do I.¡± She paused, letting the air hang heavy between them. Then, with a faint, cutting smile: ¡°Unless, of course, hurling words is all the Lady of Navkan is good for.¡± ¡°I shall meet you another time, Lady Opetlev,¡± Lady Iruja said, her voice smooth as silk as she turned and strode toward Karl. ¡°I hope not,¡± Lady Anisia muttered under her breath, loud enough for only Mikhil to hear. With that, she and her son began making their way through the crowd. Servants and onlookers quickly stepped aside, clearing a path¡ªexcept for one guard. The pair came to a halt in front of the armored man, who stood firm, his expression unreadable beneath his gilded helm. ¡°What are you, a buffoon? Hello!? A lady is walking through,¡± Lady Anisia snapped, her voice cutting through the murmurs of the crowd like a blade. She turned sharply toward Lady Iruja, who was bent over, consoling Karl. ¡°Has the House of Balgrodov lowered its standards enough to field such dull-armed men?¡± Lady Iruja stiffened, her sharp gaze snapping to Anisia. With a reluctant and hasty gesture, she waved the guard aside, allowing the Opetlevs to pass. As they walked past, Lady Anisia¡¯s gaze briefly met with that of a calm servant girl standing near the edges of the crowd. The exchange lasted less than a moment, a small insignificant flicker of recognition passing between them before the Opetlevs continued on their way. No words were spoken, and the girl returned to her work without so much as a glance after them. Only once they were far enough away did Lady Anisia lean slightly toward her son, her voice a near-silent whisper of gleeful malice. ¡°That was one of our agents.¡± Mikhil couldn¡¯t help but grin, the corners of his mouth curling upward as he cast a quick glance over his shoulder. ¡°Next you¡¯re going to tell me one of our operatives is in bed with a Balgrodov.¡± Lady Anisia put her right hand over her head as if hurt by the statement. ¡°Just one?¡± She asked ¡°Truly, you underestimate us, my child.¡± III - Recognition ¡°We are not going to grovel at the doorstep of their house, child,¡± Lady Anisia said sharply, her cane tapping against the cobblestone road with measured precision. The wealthier part of Zamzul was quiet now, the bustle of the day fading into a twilight hush. Flickering fae lights hovered above the street, casting pools of shifting color onto the stone below¡ªsoft greens, cool blues, and warm ambers that danced in the evening sun. Apart from an occasional sentry bearing Imperial emblems, the district was silent apart from the hum of the artificial illumination systems. Mikhil walked a step behind her, hands stuffed into his pockets, his steps uneven as his bare foot slapped faintly against the wet cobblestones, the sound irritatingly loud in the stillness of the evening. His missing shoe¡ªthe only casualty of this morning¡¯s skirmish¡ªhad been gifted to the Head Lectern, but the damp, sticky dirt clinging to his sole refused to let him forget. ¡°That bridge burned when you reduced the number of teeth Karl had,¡± Lady Anisia continued, Her cane clicking against the stones in a steady rhythm as she walked. ¡°We may have been able to strike a one-sided deal with that fat Balgrodov, Algrod, to allow your admission into the Academy, but now? The Navkans will make sure he refuses. They¡¯ll put more than enough pressure on that hog to ensure you never set foot in it.¡± Mikhil grunted, his lips curling into a faint sneer as he glanced down at his mud-caked foot. Hobbling on one leg, he scraped the wet dirt against the edge of a raised stone, but it only smeared further across his sole. After a while, with a frustrated sigh, he gave up and accepted the muddy fate of his bare foot. ¡°Why is this Imperial Academy so important, anyway?¡± he muttered, kicking a loose stone with deliberate aim. The pebble struck the metal grates of a wrought-iron fence with a sharp clang, ricocheting once before tumbling into the perfectly trimmed grass of a minor manor¡¯s garden. Banners depicting a silver oak on a green background hung limply from the fence, marking the estate as belonging to one of the smaller families¡ªone whose name Mikhil didn¡¯t bother to know, nor care to. A small, satisfied grin swept across his still somewhat swollen face as his rock found its mark. Mikhil straightened, brushing his hands against his shirt as if dusting off the moment. When he looked back, Lady Anisia was still watching, leaning lightly on her cane. She wasn¡¯t looking at him anymore¡ªher sharp eyes had settled on the innocent garden he¡¯d just stoned. ¡°The Vohakli family. Some of the best gardeners I have seen. Their magi-horticulture is commendable, but influence? They¡¯ve none to speak of¡ªnot even with three full seats in the Under-Council, and certainly not in the High one.¡± She turned to Mikhil with a smile and a question. ¡°Why do you think that is?¡± Mikhil shot a look at the Vohakli emblem on the banners, fluttering in the wind above an impressively well-kept greenery¡ªespecially remarkable in the middle of a bustling city. ¡°Because they¡¯re gardeners?¡± Mikhil turned back to Anisia with a smirk. Lady Anisia¡¯s lips twitched into a faint smile, but it wasn¡¯t one of approval. ¡°You think their eukaryotic cultivation built them that estate? Paid for those banners? Secured their place in the Under-Council?¡± Mikhil frowned, his hands slipping deeper into his pockets. ¡°Didn¡¯t it? I mean, if they¡¯re the best at it, wouldn¡¯t that be enough?¡± Anisia tapped her cane sharply against the cobblestones, a low chuckle escaping her lips. ¡°Being the best at something is useful. But power, Child, does not come from utility alone. It comes from relevance. It comes from positioning yourself where others have no choice but to depend on you.¡± She raised her cane, pointing it at the silver oak emblazoned on one of the banners. ¡°When we see the silver oak, we don¡¯t think, ¡®Oh, it¡¯s the Vohaklis.¡¯ Instead, we ask ourselves who it even belongs to.¡± She let the words hang for a moment, her yellow eyes narrowing slightly. ¡°The Vohaklis are skilled, yes, but they are gardeners in a world of hunters. They serve a purpose, but no one fears them. No one owes them. And no one knows them¡ªat least, no one important.¡±Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. She stepped closer to Mikhil and tapped the gryphon pinned to his chest with the head of her cane. ¡°But when our foes see the red gryphon of Talganreach,¡± she continued, her voice sharper now, ¡°they know it¡¯s the Opetlevs. They know our reputation¡ªthe blood we spilled, the deeds we committed. It means something to them.¡± She tilted her head slightly and with a piercing whisper, she leaned in. ¡°Reputation, Mikhil, is what separates us from the Vohaklis. It is what makes the gryphon feared, and the oak¡­ forgotten.¡± From the corner of his eye, Mikhil could see servants from a minor house passing across the street; whispering into each other while glaring at them with a recognizing fear across their face. Lady Anisia lowered her cane, resting both hands on its gryphon head as she regarded Mikhil. ¡°And this, Child, is why the¡­¡± She sighed a bit before continuing. ¡°The Grand Imperial Academy of Arts, War and Magic.. matters.¡± Mikhil frowned. ¡°You just said power doesn¡¯t come from utility. Isn¡¯t that all the Academy is? A place to learn spells and tactics so people like Karl can strut around pretending to matter?¡± Anisia¡¯s yellow eyes narrowed, glinting faintly under the shifting fae light. ¡°If that¡¯s all you think it is, then you¡¯ve learned nothing.¡± She straightened, her tone softening but no less firm. ¡°The Academy is where power is born¡ªnot the kind you see on a battlefield, but the kind that shapes this empire. Every alliance that matters, every rivalry worth respecting, begins within those walls. It is where debts are made and favors owed. If you are not there, Mikhil, then you are nothing to them. Just another forgotten weed in someone else¡¯s garden.¡± She gestured at the banners again, the silver oak fluttering faintly in the evening breeze. ¡°Do you want the Opetlev name to be one they see and remember, or one they overlook entirely?¡± Mikhil¡¯s gaze dropped to the red gryphon pinned to his chest, his jaw tightening. ¡°So, what? I¡¯m supposed to bow to them? Be like the Balgrodovs, licking the emperor¡¯s boots and flashing finely crafted banners?¡± Anisia¡¯s lips curled faintly¡ªnot a smile, but something sharper. ¡°No, Child. You are supposed to take their game and turn it against them. To make them fear the gryphon as they always have. And that begins with you walking through those gates, earning their grudging respect, and ensuring that they owe you.¡± She tilted her head slightly, tapping her cane against the cobblestones. ¡°Do you think your great-grandmother fought every battle, Child? While her husband¡¯s specialty was the blood-soaked fields that allowed the Kyratins to take the throne, it was your great-grandmother who fought the battles that truly mattered. They were an upstart crime matron and a wronged officer turned mercenary¡ªuseful, yes, but unworthy in the eyes of those who mattered. Even if those indulgent Kyratins owed everything to us, they would never have raised us to aristocratic status if not for the seeds she planted. She made us relevant.¡± Anisia leaned closer to Mikhil, her voice lowering. ¡°For every skull my great-grandfather smashed in with a mace, she made a nobleman indebted to her. For every now-extinct House the gryphon tore apart, another simply changed its patriarchs with a few well-placed bribes and assassinations. The new management, of course, was kept in line with sweet lies and blood-stained deceptions. For every Imperial army shattered on our wall of pikes and shields, another was quietly raised for the new Empire, with enough important men loyal to us¡ªor owing us.¡± She straightened, her sharp gaze cutting through the stillness of the street. ¡°And after all of that, after the blood we spilled and the webs we wove¡­ they still did not raise us to the status of a true House.¡± Anisia turned, her eyes shifting toward the distant Imperial capital. For a moment, her voice softened to a dangerous whisper. ¡°For that slight, the gryphon will remember.¡± She turned to Mikhil, her expression softening for just a moment, clasping a gloved hand on the right shoulder of the young Opetlev. ¡°You, my magically gifted child from another mother, will bear our legacy¡ªeven if you are not of my blood. Circumstances have dictated that you will be our heir, and a good one at that. I will see to it.¡± ¡°Unlike most¡ªif not all¡ªof the other petty clans, families, or Houses in this Empire, we Opetlevs care little about the blood that runs through one¡¯s veins. What matters is how much blood one is willing to spill for the Opetlev name.¡± Her expression softened further, a rare warmth breaking through her otherwise steely demeanor. ¡°You must bear this burden, Child, and step into the Academy. You will be the first Opetlev to enter those gilded halls and frolic with the children of dukes, princes, and barons. Let the sons and daughters of Houses and families alike come to know us¡ªintimately. Learn their ambitions. Whisper in their ears. Leave them unable to forget the gryphon.¡± She leaned closer, her voice quiet. ¡°You will thank me for this, Mikhil, when you lead us.¡± ¡°Noted, Mom. No pressure,¡± Mikhil replied, with the faintest flicker of a smile tugged at his lips. Lady Anisia raised an eyebrow, her own lips curling into a faint smile as she turned back and began walking again, her cane clicking lightly against the cobblestones. ¡°Come, Child. The night approaches, and I would rather not trip on the sidewalk. I doubt even the magic of the best magi could salvage my dignity if I did.¡± IV - Plot ¡°Lady Anisia Opetlev is here,¡± an armored guard announced, his helmeted head peeking into the plainly decorated room. The centerpiece of the room was a large black wooden table, surrounded by an entourage of men and women clad in black and red. Above them hung a grand banner bearing the crimson gryphon of the Opetlevs, its wings spread wide as it gripped a mace, all set against a pitch-black background. Lady Anisia entered, dressed in her usual long coat and elegant dress, the tap of her cane echoing in the room with every tap. Behind her trailed Mikhil, now dressed in fresher clothes, though a few bandages peeked out from beneath his sleeves. The entourage stood as Lady Anisia entered, but quickly retook their seats after a small wave of her hand. She walked toward the head of the table, her cane tapping faintly against the polished wooden floor. Beside her, an empty seat was soon occupied by Mikhil, who settled in quietly, his fingers fidgeting with his still-swollen hand¡ªthe same hand that had left its mark on the boisterous Balgrodov just a fortnight ago. As the great doors to the chamber closed with a resonant thud, a strange sensation filled the air, like the crackle of invisible lightning. For a fleeting moment, the room fell completely silent, not even nothingness itself could be audible. ¡°The spell is active. The room is now isolated,¡± a blonde man announced with a crisp voice. His unusually refined attire made him stand out among the Opetlevs. For the briefest second, his azure eyes seem to have glowed faintly before fading back to their natural shade. Lady Anisia, now seated at the head of the table, tapped her cane sharply against the polished wooden floor. The sound echoed in the heavy silence, drawing the full attention of the room. One by one, every member of the Opetlev inner circle placed their gauntleted right hands onto the table. Their crimson gauntlets shimmered into existence, summoned by an unseen force. Mikhil followed suit, placing his own hand beside his mother¡¯s. Lady Anisia¡¯s gauntlet glowed faintly as her piercing yellow eyes scanned the room. ¡°The Krama Ronj are assembled,¡± she announced. ¡°We will begin our discussions.¡± ¡°Algrod Restov Balgrodov,¡± the blonde man said coldly. ¡°The man who must go.¡± ¡°The man who needs to go,¡± Anisia replied smoothly. ¡°Mikhil¡¯s admission to the Academy is jeopardized by¡­ complications,¡± she continued, her sharp gaze flicking toward her son. ¡°The Opetlevs cannot afford such a development.¡± Seated beside Mikhil, a towering man clad in heavy plate and chainmail leaned slightly toward him. The man¡¯s helm remained firmly in place, obscuring his expression. Without warning, he lightly punched Mikhil on the shoulder, the force of his gauntleted fist causing a soft metallic clang. Mikhil winced but couldn¡¯t help the small grin tugging at his lips. Lady Anisia ignored the small gesture and continued, her voice cutting cleanly through the room. ¡°You are all aware of what transpired at the school in Zamzul,¡± she said, her tone as sharp and deliberate as ever. She tapped her cane in a quick, rhythmic sequence, and a flurry of servants swept into the room. Each carried a silver tray bearing cups filled to the brim with deep red wine. The servants moved with quiet efficiency, placing the cups in front of each member of the Krama Ronj before disappearing as swiftly and quietly as they had come. With their gauntleted hands, the members of the council each raised their cups to the ceiling in unison. Mikhil followed suit, his movements slightly slower but steady. ¡°To young Mikhil,¡± Anisia said, her voice raised, ¡°who has spilled his first blood for the family.¡± A cheer erupted from the council, their voices ringing out in unison as they toasted. The wine was consumed in a single, reverent motion, the sharp clink of metal against glass echoing through the chamber. For a fleeting moment, the room carried a rare warmth, but as the cups were set back down on the table, the familiar cloak of serious silence descended once more. ¡°Unfortunately, causes have effects,¡± Anisia spoke up, her voice firm. ¡°While I commend my son¡¯s desire to defend our name, his actions have hindered our plans for the future.¡± She paused, tapping her cane against the floor for emphasis before pointing it toward the blonde man seated at the table. ¡°As Talsen has informed us, there is one man at the root of our problems: Algrod.¡± Lady Anisia nodded slightly toward Talsen. ¡°Proceed, Talsen.¡± The blonde man rose from his seat, bowing briefly before addressing the circle. ¡°Algrod Restov Balgrodov, as you are all aware, currently plants his bulbous torso on the Zamzul District Educational Board. He is the Balgrodovian obstacle¡ªand dare I say, the biggest obstacle¡ªstanding in the way of Mikhil¡¯s enrollment.¡± A series of small chuckles escaped the various members of the meeting. Talsen gestured toward the man seated directly opposite him, a spitting mirror image of himself dressed in a metal cuirass and lighter armor. ¡°There have been discussions between myself and my brother, Kalsev. ¡± Kalsev, grinning faintly, gave a small nod, the light catching the edges of his polished armor. Talsen¡¯s hand shifted toward another figure at the table, a remarkably well-dressed and groomed woman with darker olive skin who fanned herself lightly with a small, intricately designed handheld fan. ¡°Lady Ulsika and her ladies have also been consulted from the various Terrace of Delights establishments,¡± he said. Ulsika offered a graceful smile, inclining her head in a small bow without rising from her seat. ¡°And finally,¡± Talsen continued, ¡°our¡ªthe¡­ associates of the Kalgon Craftsmen Guild.¡± A brief pause followed as Talsen cleared his throat, his posture straightening slightly. ¡°We have come to the conclusion,¡± he began, his voice calm yet deliberate, ¡°that the best way to deal with Algrod¡­¡± He let the words linger, his sharp eyes scanning the room. Then, his tone dropped, carrying a weight that hung heavy in the air. ¡°¡­is to retire him. Prematurely.¡± A wave of murmurs rippled through the room as members of the council leaned toward one another, whispering in hushed tones. A moment later, Lady Anisia tapped her cane sharply against the floor, and the murmurs ceased almost immediately. Silence once again enveloped the chamber. Mikhil, sitting stiffly in his chair, locked his widened eyes on Talsen. A second later, he shifted his gaze to Anisia. Her expression was unreadable¡ªcalm, cold, and composed, for she had overseen many a permanent and early retirement plan for many of her former foes. A brief pause followed before the armored giant seated next to Mikhil raised a massive, gauntleted hand. The young heir, along with several other members of the council, turned their heads toward the oversized man. Palgrin waited patiently, his hands in the air, waiting to be called on like a child. Talsen, his fingers tapping lightly on the table, tilted his head toward him. ¡°Palgrin, speak your mind,¡± he said. ¡°How¡­ premature are we talking here?¡± Palgrin rumbled gently. His gauntleted hands gestured vaguely in the air as if holding some kind of container. ¡°Because, judging by our history, I believe we have several levels of ¡®premature.¡¯ A touch of clarification would be¡­ helpful..¡± Talsen¡¯s expression didn¡¯t so much as flicker. ¡°The kind that typically puts one in the ground,¡± he replied flatly. Palgrin leaned back slowly in his chair, the faint scrape of chainmail and armor filling the room as the chair creaked alarmingly under his immense weight. His brow furrowed thoughtfully beneath the helm, and he nodded with exaggerated care, as though considering a most delicate matter. ¡°I assume you¡¯ve prepared a lamb, per our traditions?¡± Palgrin inquired further with a deep voice. He started tapping his red gauntleted fingers lightly against the table, expecting¡ªno, rather knowing¡ªthe answer already. ¡°And a potential sacrificial pyre to match,¡± Kalsev added, his grin sharp and mischievous. He leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head with an air of smug satisfaction. ¡°And from the same pen,¡± Talsen said, his tone flat. He gave a small nod to Kalsev, who stood without a word and exited the chamber. Moments later, Kalsev returned, leading a line of servants carrying neatly stacked papers. The servants moved with precision, placing a document in front of each member of the council, including Mikhil. Once their task was complete, they lined up near the door, bowed in unison, and exited silently. Only then did Kalsev return to his seat, dropping back into it with an exaggerated ease. He lazily picked up one of the papers, tilting it slightly as he scanned its contents with a disinterested expression. ¡°Our agents within the Balgrodovs have informed us that the Iomadae branch harbors grievances against the current ruling Restov branch,¡± Talsen began, his tone sharp and deliberate. ¡°To our surprise, their issue is strikingly similar to ours: admission.¡± Talsen picked up the paper in front of him with precise movements, retrieving a small reticle and fastening it over his right eye. The faint glow of the lens flickered as he adjusted it, inspecting the document with practiced care. ¡°Before you is a copied transcript of secret correspondence between Lord Quelos Iomadae and Algrod Restov,¡± he continued. ¡°It concerns his daughter Cirina¡¯s admission to the Academy¡­ and her proposed marriage.¡±This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. He turned the paper toward the group, holding it up for the Opetlevs to see. ¡°This is the original,¡± Talsen said, his finger tapping the bottom of the document. ¡°You can see the authentic mark¡ªthe seal of Lord Quelos¡¯ ring¡ªstamped clearly here beneath the text.¡± ¡°Pray tell, are you suggesting that man used his position to arrange a marriage with someone two decades his junior?¡± a voice rose from near the end of the table. The speaker, a council member with a deep scowl, set the paper down with a sigh. ¡°I see a scandal brewing from a mile away,¡± he added, leaning back in his chair. ¡°Which is precisely why obtaining this letter required us to burn a few bridges with our contacts within the Balgrodovs,¡± Talsen replied smoothly, his tone steady and matter-of-fact. He gestured toward Kalsev with a deliberate motion. ¡°Our embedded operatives have taken care of¡­ the loose ends,¡± he continued, his eyes flicking briefly to the group. ¡°Courtesy of the Kalgon Guild¡¯s armed wing.¡± Kalsev made a mock bow. ¡°So they don¡¯t know we have this?¡± Mikhil asked, setting his paper down on the table, his eyes flicking between Talsen and the document. ¡°They know it¡¯s missing,¡± Talsen replied, his tone calm and measured. ¡°They may suspect we¡¯re involved, but they don¡¯t have any evidence to confirm we¡¯re the ones holding it.¡± ¡°Frankly, I¡¯m confused why Algrod even keeps things like this lying around,¡± Mikhil said, frowning as he gestured toward the document. ¡°Documents like these should be reduced to ash.¡± Talsen gave a faint, smirk as he placed the original missive on the table, his gaze lingering on it for a moment. He regained his composure in a brief second. ¡°Or better yet,¡± he continued, his voice dropping slightly, ¡°use loyal men. Less likely to go missing¡ªwell at least when we¡¯re not the ones involved in such disappearances.¡± ¡°Where was this even stored?¡± Palgrin rumbled as he gracefully placed his paper on the table. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say stored¡ªmore like lost,¡± Talsen replied, adjusting the reticle over his eye. ¡°Some Restov clerk stumbled across it while cleaning their archives. Unfortunately for him, the clerk had a very close female friend, who just so happened to have a very close female friend of ours.¡± Talsen¡¯s gaze flicked toward Ulsika, who tilted her head slightly. ¡°A bit of pillow talk here and there,¡± Talsen continued, ¡°and we knew everything we needed to know¡ªwho the clerk was, where he worked, where he kept it, his family¡­ even his wife, expecting their first child.¡± A faint murmur ran through the room, but Talsen carried on smoothly, his tone cold. ¡°All it took was a handful of gold to get the letter. And, of course, some change to pay someone to send him to the bottom of the Javerian River. The clerk¡¯s gold exchanged hands. Payment for a job well done and¡­ to not ask questions. It also helps that he knows what we do to loose ends. He did have a hand in their removal after all.¡± ¡°So we¡¯re going to get the Iomadaes to kill Algrod for us?¡± Mikhil asked, leaning slightly forward. Talsen chuckled softly, his eyes still fixed on the letter on the table. Anisia allowed herself the faintest grin, one that vanished almost as quickly as it appeared. ¡°Oh, no, no, no, young man,¡± Talsen replied, his voice smooth with a hint of disguised amusement. ¡°Simmering family feud aside we are exploiting for our own benefits, no one is crazy enough to go after Algrod.¡± He sharply looked up, his gaze sweeping across the room. Silence. The other members stared back at him with no expression as well. Then, just as quickly, he recovered with his gaze returning to the letter. His smirk returned, sharp and deliberate. ¡°Well, no Balgrodov, at least,¡± he added with dry monotone. A pause hung in the air before Talsen tapped the table sharply, his eyes lifting once more to meet the room. ¡°I have managed to make personal contact with Lord Quelos through¡­ private methods,¡± he began, his voice even. ¡°I did attempt to extend my condolences for certain developments a few years ago, though he did not seem particularly receptive to my kind words.¡± He paused briefly, letting the weight of his words settle before continuing. ¡°Nonetheless, I have convinced him that perhaps Cirina might attend the Academy after all. A little late in my opinion, but who are we to hinder someone with a thirst for knowledge?¡± A faint smirk played on his lips. ¡°Lord Quelos has agreed to parley, provided he can meet Lady Anisia personally¡­ off the record, of course.¡± The room turned its collective attention to Lady Anisia, who had remained silent throughout the discussion. Finally, with a slight incline of her head, she spoke. ¡°Tell him I accept.¡± Talsen bowed gracefully. ¡°Very well.¡± He hesitated for a moment, then turned back toward Lady Anisia, his movements deliberate and smooth. ¡°Might I inquire, Lady Anisia, if the original plan is still on the table?¡± Anisia gave a single nod, her piercing yellow eyes scanning the room briefly before returning to Talsen. ¡°Very well,¡± Talsen repeated, straightening as he readdressed the group. ¡°In our original discussions,¡± he began, his tone sharp and precise, ¡°Lady Anisia suggested that executing this cleanly may not even be possible.¡± His gaze shifted briefly to Kalsev, as if staring into his twin¡¯s very soul with an invisible command. Kalsev scanned the room, the silence stretching as all eyes remained fixed on him. Finally, he sighed and sat up straighter. ¡°Fine, brother. I shall relay my original idea.¡± He gestured lazily toward the group, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. ¡°The Winter Palace of Javeria is hosting their annual ball next month, as you all know. Algrod¡¯s little kingdom in Aracara will be filled to the brim with Balgrodov loyalists¡ªan ideal setting, wouldn¡¯t you agree?¡± A few murmurs rippled through the room, but Kalsev pressed on, leaning forward, his hands gesturing wildly as he spoke. ¡°I happen to know an architect, Maximilian Uihal. Some of you will recognize him as the capricious genius behind many estates and palaces across the empire. Turns out, this man also happens to be the one who designed the Winter Palace for Algrod¡¯s old man.¡± ¡°Xodlan Restov?¡± Mikhil inquired, frowning slightly. ¡°Ahh, you know your lore well, Mikhil,¡± Kalsev said with a wide grin. ¡°Yes, Lord Xodlan Restov¡ªgovernor of Aracara, creature extraordinaire, and a man paranoid, he truly seems to be convinced every shadow held an assassin.¡± Kalsev shrugged with a pause. ¡°Nothing wrong with that, but if you fear an assassin after every door in your own home; you¡¯re doing something wrong.¡± ¡°Anyways, back to the story. Apart from the large aviaries and enclosures for things that should not be pets, he also had the architect design and implement a series of tunnels beneath the palace. Escape routes, mostly. Little triggers hidden all across the palace that unveil secret passageways. And one of the main tunnels just so happens to lead right underneath the ballroom.¡± Kalsev paused dramatically, letting the revelation hang in the air. ¡°We¡¯re going to fill it with explosives and blow the whole thing up!¡± The room fell silent. Lady Anisia glanced at her fingernails, decently likely to be mentally calculating how long until the next manicure. Mikhil blinked. ¡°You¡­ want to blow up the palace?¡± ¡°What? No, it was Maximilian¡¯s idea,¡± Kalsev replied, as if the clarification made everything perfectly reasonable. ¡°Come again?¡± Ulsika said, her brow furrowing as she stared at Kalsev. ¡°Oh, originally, I was going after Maximilian because I¡¯d heard from his friends in the Kalgon Guild that he was the architect, the one who designed the palace during its tunnel phase. He didn¡¯t finish the whole thing, though. By the time he was pushed out¡ªthanks to the usual fickle Balgrodovian personnel changes¡ªthe tunnels were already completed. After I heard about the tunnels, I thought¡­ maybe we could slip a team in there and get the drop on Algrod. We approached him with this in mind and well¡­¡± Kalsev said, his grin widening. ¡°Maximilian told me, and I quote, ¡®I¡¯m on board if I get to blow it up.¡¯¡± ¡°And when, exactly, did he say that?¡± Ulsika asked, her confusion growing evident on her face. ¡°Oh, when I kidnapped his wife,¡± Kalsev replied nonchalantly. ¡°Huh?¡± Palgrin rumbled, leaning forward. ¡°I wanted him on board,¡± Kalsev explained with a shrug. ¡°So I napped his wife while she was on her way to the market or something, who knows. Little details.¡± A small pause as he looked around the various members with no expression or faces of growing surprise. Kalsev continued. ¡°Me and my boys approached him¡ªdid the usual scary talk. ¡®Hey, you¡¯ll help us if you ever want to see your lovely wife again.¡¯ You know, intimidation stuff.¡± He grinned proudly. ¡°Maximilian said we could keep his wife¡ªin much harsher words.¡± Various members of council exchanged baffled glances and coughs disguising guffaws. ¡°He then inquired why the Opetlevs would want anything from a scorned mason like him,¡± Kalsev continued, unfazed. ¡°So I told him the truth¡ªwhat we Opetlevs always do. Messing with the Balgrodovs. The moment I mentioned the lions, he was on board. The man was absolutely furious. Had some very colorful things to say about them, especially about Xodlan and his spawn.¡± ¡°Can we trust him?¡± Mikhil asked cautiously. ¡°He isn¡¯t one of us.¡± ¡°Not entirely,¡± Kalsev admitted, leaning back in his chair. ¡°But he¡¯s crazy, if nothing else. When I mentioned the Balgrodovs, he started spilling every secret he knew. Every lie, every contact, every single thing he worked on for them. The man practically turned feral. Honestly, he looked ready to march straight to Algrod himself and start swinging. We offhandedly mentioned we may want to do something with the Winter Palace and¡­ he pitched me the idea to blow it up.¡± Another long silence followed. Lady Anisia finally spoke up with a tap of her cane on the hard wooden floor. ¡°A bold strategy but we should always have as many avenues of approach as possible.¡± The circle turned their heads towards her. ¡°While we may not end up demolishing the marble eyesore; the tunnels are still useful. If all else fails. We can fall back to the original idea of a kill team.¡± ¡°Wouldn¡¯t poison work?¡± Mikhil inquired, turning his head towards Talsen. Talsen smiled, constrained snorts emitting from his nose as he glanced at Anisia. ¡°No.¡± Mikhil glanced over at Anisia who seemed to be suppressing a smile. Talsen continued .¡°We already tried.¡± He turned towards Mikhil. ¡°Trying to get into his supply chain was impossible; he sources his food from somewhere that even eludes us. No clear convoys or contacts with farms or butchers.¡± He turned towards Ulsika with a knowing grin. ¡°But Ulsika¡¯s ladies managed to make the impossible possible around two years ago.¡± Mikhil shifted his gaze confusedly between the blonde advisor and the olive skinned woman. ¡°So¡­ what happened?¡± ¡°Manticore Venom; lethal if it gets into you in any way.¡± Talsev continued, whispering as he leaned into Mikhil. ¡°That oversized creature drank two mugfulls of it¡­ and nothing happened.¡± Mikhil blinked. ¡°Wait, he¡¯s immune?¡± Mikhil asked. ¡°Seems like it.¡± Talsev replied. ¡°How is that even possible?¡± Mikhil continued his inquiry. ¡°Not a clue, but if Manticore venom cannot kill him, poison is out of the equation. But thankfully nothing helps someone die than a cold steel blade through their neck.¡± Talsev leaned back into his chair. ¡°That is if the blade is long enough to pierce his layers of fat.¡± Lady Anisia tapped the floor, undivided attention once again diverted to her. ¡°I believe we have said all that is for now.¡± Her yellow eyes scanned the room once before continuing. ¡°We will reconvene later.¡± The chairs shifted as many members stood up and bowed. Most members made their way towards the exit while a few; Mikhil, Lady Anisia, Talsen, Kalsev and Palgrin, remained seated. Ulsika stood up and gracefully approached Kalsev, who was playing with his rolled up copy of the message like it¡¯s some dagger. She tapped him in the midway between harsh and gentle on the shoulder. ¡°So¡­ you did give him back his wife, right?¡± Ulsika asked. Kalsev paused. He tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling with a puzzled expression. ¡°Huh,¡± he mused. ¡°I knew I was forgetting something.¡± V - Deal ¡°Must the meeting take place in such a decrepit setting?¡± Mikhil muttered as he settled into his seat, carefully nudging a jagged piece of the splintered wooden floor away with his boot. Lady Anisia lowered herself gracefully onto the chair beside him, her composure untouched by the disrepair around her. Behind her stood Palgrin and Kalsev, fully armored from head to toe. Their pollaxes rested lazily against their shoulders, yet their sharp eyes betrayed unwavering vigilance. ¡°The more rundown, the better¡ªit keeps prying eyes away,¡± Lady Anisia replied, leaning back in her chair with measured ease. ¡°You should grow accustomed to such places, child. Dark, dingy settings divert attention. Even if they knew we were meeting, they wouldn¡¯t know where or when. Because they''d be looking at our estates, our palaces, our fortresses. Not some shack in the middle of a swamp. That is why we are here.¡± ¡°Heh, If the mold doesn¡¯t kill me first,¡± Mikhil muttered under his breath, scraping a patch of fungi from his chair. He flicked the crumbling remnants toward the door with a faint grimace. ¡°What¡¯s taking them so long?¡± he added, his gaze fixed on the entrance. ¡°Patience, child,¡± Lady Anisia cautioned gently. ¡°Many a general fell by charging in too early into a fight.¡± Mikhil gestures broadly at the empty room, his hands sweeping as if to cast some unseen spell. ¡°This general seems to have marched onto an empty battlefield.¡± ¡°Then this general has the advantage of time to prepare,¡± Lady Anisia countered smoothly. ¡°Use it wisely.¡± A pause. "I suppose I should start digging ditches and laying down stakes?" Mikhil quipped, his grin widening. ¡°A competent foe, late for the field of battle, will know you¡¯ve prepared ditches, stakes, barricades, fortified positions, and taken the high ground,¡± Lady Anisia replied, tapping her cane softly against the floor. ¡°The trick is to make them attack anyway, rather than retreat in the face of such overwhelming odds. Otherwise, if your enemy doesn¡¯t take the bait, all that preparation is wasted.¡± A knock on the door and an Opetlev servant entered. She bowed and announced. She leaned in towards Mikhil and whispered, "That is what differentiates a competent tactician from a brilliant one." "Lord Quelos Iomadae Balgrodov and Lady Cirina Iomadae Balgrodov have arrived." "Good." Lady Anisia curtly replied. The servant bowed and exited. ¡°I was beginning to think a bear got them,¡± Palgrin muttered, clearly having suppressed a laugh. ¡°Would¡¯ve made for a funny story.¡± "What kind of mad bear would take its chances with a small convoy of armed magi-guards?" Kalsev inquired, growing amusement in his voice. "A bear that hates Balgrodovs." Palgrin answered as he gently punched Kalsev''s shoulders as the two shared a laugh. Lady Anisia allowed herself a brief, calculated smile before her composure returned. "Look alive, boys. They''re here." The two men straightened themselves up, puffing themselves slightly to appear more imposing behind their matriarch. Mikhil, too, adjusted his posture, sitting up straighter. The discomfort that had plagued him moments ago gave way to an expression of calm, emotionless composure as befitting a typical Opetlev. Whispers and footsteps drew closer until two figures entered the room. The first to enter was an aging man, his gold-embroidered surcoat adorned with a series of medals that clinked faintly with each deliberate step. A small lion sigil on his chest unmistakably marked him as a Balgrodov. Following closely behind was a young woman dressed in an elegant white and gold gown. Her ash-gray hair framed a face with striking azure eyes that were constantly darting around the room. With gloved hands, she lifted the hem of her dress and performed a small, graceful curtsy¡ªa polite formality if anything¡ªbefore stepping forward to join her father in the den of vipers. The two Iomadaes took their seats in chairs as dilapidated as the house itself, their gazes locked onto the stony-faced Opetlevs. The Opetlevs returned the scrutiny, their eyes meeting those of their potential allies with equal intensity. Several seconds passed before Lady Anisia broke the silence, tapping her cane lightly against the wooden floor. ¡°So, are we here to stare at each other or to discuss terms?¡± she said, cuttingly. Only the distant chirping of swamp bugs and birds answered her at first, the oppressive quiet stretching for several moments. Finally, the old man spoke, his tone deliberate and measured. ¡°Let us not forget this is about the death of a distant cousin of mine.¡± Lady Anisia¡¯s lips curved into a faint smile, though it didn¡¯t reach her eyes. ¡°A cousin you were happy to leave to his own devices until the opportunity to leverage his passing arose,¡± she said smoothly. ¡°But by all means, Lord Quelos, we are all adults here. Let us address this tragedy for our own mutual benefit, as adults should.¡± Quelos¡¯s eyes narrowed, his expression hardening. ¡°Family matters are rarely so simple, Lady Anisia,¡± he replied, his tone edged. ¡°Nor are alliances with the Opetlevs. Forgive me if I proceed with caution.¡± Cirina, seated quietly beside her father, cast a sharp glance between the two, her hands folded neatly in her lap. ¡°And forgive us,¡± she interjected, her voice bitingly soft, ¡°if we request reassurances that our¡­ cooperation will not be met with the usual ¡®Talganreach Two-Timing.¡¯¡± Palgrin¡¯s eyes shot a look at Kalsev behind his helmet, an invisible joke. ¡°Let me put it this way: we might backstab you in the future, but for now, we won¡¯t. Does that sound agreeable?¡± Lady Anisia continued. ¡°Honest, at least,¡± Lord Iomadae said, nodding slightly. ¡°We have always been honest,¡± Anisia replied, her tone steady and unbothered. ¡°When you deal with us, you know it will bite down the line¡­ probably. Better an honest foe of a lion than a snake for a friend, wouldn¡¯t you agree?¡± ¡°Fair, but what exactly do you want with us?¡± Lord Iomadae continues. ¡°We Opetlevs will handle the dirty work. All we want is a way in,¡± Anisia said plainly. ¡°A way in where?¡± Lord Iomadae asked innocently. ¡°Don¡¯t play coy with me, Lord Iomadae. Algrod¡¯s little ball,¡± she replied sharply. A pause hung in the air as Cirina gazed at Anisia. ¡°You want us to allow Opetlev agents into the ball?¡± Quelos asked.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°What? Were you planning to kill that oversized man for us?¡± Anisia countered smoothly. ¡°Mind your tongue, witch matriarch,¡± Quelos growled, his voice low and dangerous. ¡°He may soon find himself six feet under, but even then, he remains my kindred.¡± ¡°I¡¯m certain your kindred are well-acquainted with such familial bonds,¡± Anisia said smoothly. ¡°And what exactly do you mean by that?¡± Lord Quelos¡¯s voice rose slightly, a sharp edge creeping into his tone. Behind Anisia, Kalsev and Palgrin subtly tightened their grips on their weapons as small blue lightning crackled faintly around the eyes of the presumably slighted Iomadaean patriarch. Moments passed as if bloodshed would erupt in the very next. Then it was Cirina who broke this silence. ¡°Lady Anisia Opetlev, graciously remind me¡ªdid you summon us to the middle of nowhere to taunt us, or to discuss terms for our mutual benefit?¡± The pale woman turned her head and regarded the Iomadaean heir with her piercing yellow eyes. Moments passed before she spoke, turning her head towards the fuming lord. ¡°My apologies, Lord Quelos. Forgive us Opetlevs for our habitual animosity with words".¡± Quelos turned to his daughter, his gaze lingering on her as she gave the faintest nod. Slowly, the sparks in his eyes faded, and he turned back to Anisia. ¡°I accept your apologies,¡± he said gruffly, clearing his throat. ¡°Pleasantries aside,¡± he continued, ¡°let us get down to business.¡± ¡°You want us to let some of your men into the Aracara Palace Ball?¡± Lord Quelos asked, his tone measured. Anisia nodded once, her expression calm. ¡°And you¡¯re saying these men will handle Algrod with minimal input from us?¡± ¡°Just get them inside, and we have a deal,¡± Anisia replied smoothly. Quelos leaned back in his chair, his gaze narrowing as he considered her words. ¡°No plans, no layout of the palace¡ªnothing. You just want our men in?¡± He paused, the silence thick with suspicion. ¡°Either you¡¯re leaving far too much to chance, or you already have something planned. And I¡¯ve never known the Opetlev family, under your leadership, to rely on the former.¡± He leaned forward slightly with a sharpened tone. ¡°Are you going to let us in on the plan?¡± ¡°Algrod is to be killed. Simple as that,¡± Anisia said, her voice cool. ¡°Yes, but how exactly? Poison?¡± ¡°No.¡± Quelos raised an eyebrow. ¡°Why not? It sounds like an easy way to deal with him. A quiet death, and we can frame a kitchen servant or two afterward. Pin it on someone unimportant.¡± Anisia and Mikhil exchanged a glance of knowledge. ¡°No,¡± Anisia said firmly as she turned back to face the Iomadaes. With narrowing eyes and a tugging question, Quelos was ready to voice his concern. But it was Anisia who answered it before the inquiry was voiced. ¡°We already attempted it.¡± Quelos opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. Something¡ªshock, perhaps¡ªseemed to block any sound. He turned to his daughter with jaws ajar, who too mirrored his expression of disbelief. The two Iomadaes looked at each other, then back at the Opetlevs. Finally, Cirina broke the silence, her tone clipped but resigned. ¡°I think I¡¯d prefer not to know the details. Let¡¯s leave it at that.¡± Cirina paused, waiting as her father gathered himself before continuing. ¡°My father and I want¡­ assurances.¡± ¡°Such as?¡± Anisia inquired smoothly. ¡°We can¡¯t have a bunch of Opetlev men running around chopping up guards, servants, and other Balgrodov kin just to get to Algrod,¡± Cirina said firmly. ¡°Questions will be asked, and heads will roll. Our House and your family are already on the verge of an open feud¡ªthis would very likely tip the scales into uncodified warfare.¡± ¡°So you want us to do it discreetly?¡± ¡°We want you to ensure neither we nor yourselves are tied to this attempt.¡± ¡°You think they won¡¯t suspect us?¡± ¡°We¡¯re saying: don¡¯t leave evidence,¡± Cirina clarified. Lady Anisia nodded thoughtfully. ¡°And I assume your entourage that escorted you here is loyal and trustworthy?¡± ¡°Very much so,¡± Quelos said, finally speech-capable once again ¡°On my life, these men are dependable. These men will follow me to the ends of the earth.¡± ¡°Good,¡± Anisia said with a faint smile. ¡°Then we won¡¯t have many loose ends. I assure you, none of us will be implicated.¡± With a tap of her cane she continued. ¡°After the unfortunate demise of the fat Algrod, as agreed, we will aid your family in wresting control of the Balgrodovian leadership. Once you have secured yourself as patriarch, we ask only one thing: that whoever takes Algrod¡¯s place on the Educational Board allows my son¡±¡ªshe placed a gentle hand on Mikhil¡¯s shoulder¡ª¡°to pursue greater studies.¡± ¡°I will see to it, on my wor¡ª,¡± Quelos started. ¡°And I will even extend my son¡¯s hand to your daughter,¡± Anisia interjected. Kalsev, Palgrin, Mikhil, Cirina, and Quelos slammed their gazes on a clam Lady Anisia. ¡°Come again?¡± Quelos inquired. ¡°My son, your daughter.¡± Anisia repeated. Quelos and Cirina turned towards each other and at the stone faced the Opetlevian matriarch. ¡°Oh, spare me,¡± Anisia said with a faint, dismissive wave of her hand. ¡°You know as well as I do that your daughter¡¯s prime is fading. Not many princes with better options would even consider taking her hand.¡± ¡°Pardon me, but what exactly do you mean by that?¡± Cirina demanded with restrained noblesse. ¡°Woman to woman, my child,¡± Anisia replied, leaning in slightly with a suppressed smirk. ¡°You¡¯re what¡ª28? Some people your age are already grandmothers.¡± Cirina shot to her feet, her hands crackling with bolts of lightning, fury etched across her face. Before she could act, Quelos grabbed her firmly by the shoulder, pulling her back into her seat. ¡°You cannot be serious, Lady Anisia. This is no joking matter¡ª¡± Quelos began, his voice rising with irritation. ¡°I mean, just look at my child,¡± Anisia interrupted smoothly, gesturing toward Mikhil. ¡°Young, recently come into manhood. Charming, strong, and brimming with vigor.¡± Mikhil shifted in his seat, his gaze darting between Kalsev, Palgrin, and Anisia, confusion plainly written on his face. ¡°Accept his hand,¡± Anisia continued, ¡°and align our families in matrimony. The Opetlevs will forever be willingly indebted to your service.¡± ¡°I will nev¡ª¡± Cirina began, but she was silenced by a firm wave from Lord Quelos. ¡°I will have to consider this,¡± Quelos said, scratching his chin. ¡°By all means, take your time,¡± Lady Anisia replied smoothly. ¡°But remember, if my son¡¯s hand remains free when a better suitor comes along, he will not hesitate to take it.¡± She turned toward Mikhil with an expectant gaze. ¡°Right, son?¡± Mikhil nodded awkwardly, his discomfort evident. ¡°Err¡ªyes. I¡­ I would be honored to wed your daughter, Lord Quelos. Erm¡­ yes.¡± Cirina¡¯s jaw tightened, her knuckles whitening as she gripped the edge of the chair. Her lips pressed together, forming a thin line of barely-contained berserk rage. Quelos, however, raised an eyebrow. ¡°Quite the enthusiastic proposal,¡± he muttered dryly, eyeing Mikhil¡¯s fumbling demeanor. ¡°Indeed,¡± Anisia chimed in, her tone saccharine. ¡°My son is eager to make alliances for the benefit of both our families. Such a dutiful young man.¡± Mikhil blinked, glancing at his mother. ¡°Yes, duty¡­ very important,¡± he stammered. ¡°I¡¯ve always admired... the Balgrodovs¡¯¡­ erm... traditions?¡± Cirina snorted, unable to contain herself. ¡°Traditions? You wouldn¡¯t last a day under our traditions.¡± She crossed her arms, sparks of residual lightning still crackling faintly around her fingers. Anisia ignored the exchange entirely, her faint smile growing as she addressed Quelos. ¡°See? They¡¯re already getting along. I can already imagine my grandchildren.¡± Quelos sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. ¡°If this is what getting along looks like, Lady Anisia, I can¡¯t wait to see them as in-laws.¡± Cirina turned to her father. ¡°Oh, yes, Father. Let¡¯s seal this deal with a wedding. What could possibly go wrong?¡± Anisia leaned back in her chair, her smile unshaken. ¡°Ah, the playful banter of youth. Nothing builds a strong foundation for the future like a little spirited rivalry, don¡¯t you think?¡± Quelos groaned, shaking his head. ¡°This is going to be a long negotiation.¡± Mikhil turned toward his mother for potential answers, who met his gaze with a smile¡ªone that, for once, reached her eyes; yellow with a sinister glint. In the unspoken silence that followed, Mikhil gave the faintest of nods. Straightening his posture, he regained his composure. Lady Anisia then turned back towards expectant Quelos and declared. ¡°Our ascension shall be paid in blood, let us ensure it is not ours that is charged.¡± VI - Price ¡°He can be trusted,¡± Talsen murmured, his voice barely audible over the soft crackle of the azure flames dancing in the hearth. Lady Anisia, seated comfortably in a modestly lavish chair, gracefully set her porcelain cup aside. She tapped the head of her gryphon-capped cane resting on her lap to the matching crackle of the flames. ¡°Trusted to remain loyal,¡± she inquired with measured voice, ¡°or trusted to complete the deed?¡± Talsen replied curtly, ¡°The latter.¡± Anisia allowed herself a faint, almost imperceptible smile. ¡°That is, after all, the least we can demand,¡± she mused. With a small wave she continued ¡°You know the drill, Talsen. If he becomes a loose end... ensure it¡¯s tied off neatly.¡± Talsen bowed deeply, his movement precise and deliberate. A knock at the door drew Talsen¡¯s attention. He turned toward it as Lady Anisia¡¯s voice rang out. "Enter." The door swung open, and Mikhil stepped inside with a methodical march. With a respectful bow, he took his place beside his seated mother, silently standing at attention. "Child, we are going to fix your problem," Lady Anisia stated. Mikhil remained silent. "But you are going to have a hand in repairing it." Though his fingers twitched slightly, he nodded, his expression cold and unreadable. "I trust Talsen and Kalsev have roughly briefed you on our plans?" "They have, Mother." "Good. Before you depart, we will go over the details again. A few minor adjustments are being made now by our allies. Iomadae espionage capabilities could be considered... lacking." "Agents indicate Algrod is tightening his security. He suspects foul play," Talsen reported, conjuring several pieces of parchment covered in scribbles and diagrams. "When have the Restoves not suspected anything? Their own palace is a labyrinth of tunnels, some of which they don¡¯t even fully comprehend," Lady Anisia muttered.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. "Do you think our plans were leaked?" Mikhil inquired. "Unlikely. Even if they were, there is not enough physical evidence to implicate us fully," Talsen replied, pulling a quill from his blonde hair and adding more notations to his reports. "All our cross-house communication was conducted through personal channels," Lady Anisia remarked, taking another sip from her porcelain cup. "It makes interception difficult¡ªunless someone is willing to openly attack a house-affiliated messenger going about his business... supposedly." She set the cup down. "Then again, I am certain they know we are trying to kill them. But we know that they know we are trying to kill them." Talsen smirked. "This also cuts both ways, Mikhil." After a few more moments of frenzied scribbling, he tucked the purple quill back into his golden hair before shoving the papers into his coat, where they dissolved into a misty twilight haze. "The true secrets," he murmured, "are always when, where, and how." Another knock at the door echoed through the chamber as Kalsev and Palgrin lumbered in, their chainmail rattling beneath their black and red plate armor. Kalsev bowed gracefully, while Palgrin kneeled, resting his axe on the ground. "You summoned, Lady Anisia?" Palgrin rumbled respectfully. With a wave of her hand, Anisia gestured for him to rise. "Have you been briefed?" she inquired. Kalsev nodded, while Palgrin responded, "Yes." "Good. Then you know your role. Ensure my son does not get too many bones broken." She turned to Mikhil, her gaze steady. "It is time for you to become a true Opetlev man and join the family business." A silence settled over the room. "You are all dismissed." Talsen, Kalsev and Palgrin gave a final nod before bowing and exiting, leaving mother and son facing the flickering blue flames of the fireplace. After a long pause, Mikhil finally spoke, his voice quiet but firm. "Is this right, Mother?" Lady Anisia did not answer immediately. Instead, she swirled her drink playfully, tilting her head slightly. "Is what right, child?" "What we are about to do," Mikhil continued. A soft chuckle escaped Anisia¡¯s lips as she set her cup aside. "That woman struck a chord of affection with you?" "Not that, Mother. It feels wrong." Lady Anisia turned to face him fully, a smirk curling at the edge of her lips. Mikhil held her gaze, his expression unreadable but his posture unwavering. "Child, do remind me who we are again." A pause. "I am an Opetlev, Mother." "And what is the price of our ascension?" "Blood." "And better for whom to be charged the price?" Mikhil''s voice was barely above a whisper. "Not us."