Sera continued her stroll. The dark hallway led her to the estate's east wing, where the servants had clearly left it unattended. All she could see were the dirty tapestries and the old portraits of her ancestors hanging on the wall.
When she didn't hear Rowan's footsteps, she turned around to look at him and found him watching her intently. She inwardly sighed, knowing she couldn't have a chance to escape from his prying eyes. She couldn't understand why he was eager to follow her father's command when he had nothing to gain from it.
She ran her fingers against the wall, feigning boredom once Rowan started following her again. Suddenly, the system interface flashed before her, pointing to a small section of the wall beneath a portrait of one of her ancestors. Sera had been waiting for this.
[HIDDEN MECHANISM DETECTED]
Location: Below the portrait of Duke Ignatius de Lys.
Mechanism: Pressure-activated latch.
Pathway: Leads to service tunnels. Route to the wine cellar available.
Sera pretended not to notice anything until her fingers lightly pushed the wall as she pretended to trip. With a soft click, a section of the wall swung inward, revealing a dark, dusty passage. She gasped, genuinely surprised at the ease, but quickly masked it with false shock.
"What in the world...?"
Her eyes widened when Rowan instinctively caught her fall, his arm wound around her small waist. She looked over her head and froze when his long golden hair draped over her shoulder, his broad chest pressed against her back.
Sera held her breath. She could smell him up close. Rowan smelled like the fresh scent of pine with a hint of warm spice as if he had just stepped out of the forest after a rainstorm.
"You should eat more, de Lys," Rowan commented as he helped her back to her feet, before eyeing the passage that appeared before them.
"Is this what you've been looking for?" He asked, assessing the passage for any traps.
Sera shot him a glare. She hated how unbothered he was.
"How would I know there's a passage here? Even if I knew it was here, why would I drag you along?"
Rowan was immediately alert, stepping forward to peer into the darkness. His duty as her warden and his curiosity as a mage override his caution.
"Stay back. I don't sense any wards, but it could be unstable."
"I don't need your protection, Ashgrave," Sera reminded him as she followed after him closely. "My father never mentioned this passage. Do you think this is how the Argenthals infiltrate the estate?"
"If your father knew this passage, he would have sealed this a long time ago." He glanced at her, displeasure crossing his face as Sera refused to listen to him.
"Stay close." He told her, before creating a small light orb in his left palm, and led the way in.
Sera followed closely, a small smile gracing her lips. Rowan thought he was leading, but in fact, it was she who was directing the effort.
The passage was narrow, dusty, and filled with cobwebs. It sloped downward. They passed intersections that led to other parts of the house. Thankfully, the system mapped the passages for Sera, enabling her to study those that she might find useful in the future.
The passage ends at a wooden wall. Through the narrow slats of the wall, they can see the wine cellar. They can hear the distant chatter of the royal guards at the main entrance, but the cellar itself is empty.
"The wine cellar? This is pretty far from where we came from." Sera leaned closer to the cracks while holding her chin.
Rowan gently probed the wall, trying to see if there was a hidden door. It didn't take long before a small door creaked open from the light pressure of his fingertips. He shared a look with Sera before stepping inside the cellar, when the voices faded, signaling the departure of the roaming guards.
The wine cellar was only being illuminated by the moon outside. Sera spotted the rack where the finer wines are kept—the ones reserved for officers and honored guests. The Mage-Knights' wine. It seemed to have been recently delivered, with the crates marked with the church's insignia.
Sera laughed inwardly. These fools were making her schemes easier. The only obstacle left for her to poison the guards was none other than Rowan. However, she knew it wouldn't be easy to distract or fool him. She needed to find a discreet way to poison the wine bottles without Rowan noticing it.
Sera weighed her options. She thought that the best way to execute the task was to turn Rowan's protectiveness towards her against him. She looked around the cellar until she reached a wire rack where the finest wines of her family were stored.
Meanwhile, Rowan examined the crates for any abnormalities. Sera took the opportunity to look at the shelf above the wine rack, which held dusty, old goblets and decanters. She stood on her tiptoes, pretending to reach for one of the goblets to examine it. She then pretended to "lose her balance," stumbling backward and grabbing the wine rack for support. The rack shook, and bottles clinked together loudly, immediately taking Rowan's attention.
His head whipped around. Sera knew Rowan's primary duty was her safety. He instinctively moved to steady her and the rack to prevent a catastrophic and noisy collapse. With swift reflexes, he moved forward, his hand reaching out to stabilize her and holding the rack, ensuring that no bottles toppled over and shattered, which could draw the guards' attention—or worse, injure Sera.
In that few-second window where his focus was entirely on her and on preventing the crash, Sera acted swiftly. She didn't need to open a bottle. She simply placed her palm flat against the cork of the target bottle in a crate. A faint, almost invisible wisp of crimson liquid seeped from her hand, through the cork, and into the wine, instantly tainting it.
The system confirmed the transfer silently in her mind. Just as Rowan's hands steadied her shoulders and the rack, the deed was done.
[CONDITIONS MET]
[VP OPPORTUNITY: "+200 VP" - Poison the wine reserve for the Mage-Knights. Blame the Church.] - > SUCCESS
+200 Vengeance Points Awarded.
Total VP: 1,550 / 10,000
Toxin: Crimson Blood administered. Onset: 8-12 hours.
Result: Targets will experience acute distress, debilitating nausea, and fever. Non-lethal.
Narrative Seed Planted: Suspicion will fall on spoiled provisions provided by the Church.
"Are you trying to bring the guards down on us?" Rowan asked, sounding exasperated by her recent actions.
Sera looked appropriately flustered, but she inwardly rejoiced.
"It was an accident. This place is a deathtrap." She brushed herself off, her mission accomplished under the guise of clumsiness.
Rowan gave the now-stable wine rack one last wary glance before ushering her back toward the hidden passage, his expression unreadable but obviously grim. The secret door clicked shut behind them, leaving the poisoned wine to await its unsuspecting consumers.
Sera watched Rowan closely. He was silent, processing the events of the night. He was too smart not to suspect that she had done something. But he has no proof that she used magic. The cuffs would instantly notify him if she dared to use magic. And by leading the way, by being down there with her, he became part of it. He was now an accessory.
"What have you done, de Lys?" Rowan asked as soon as they stepped out of the passage, bringing them back to the east wing of the estate.
Sera met his gaze, her expression a perfect mask of affronted innocence. The saintess wasn't the only one who knew how to act. She didn't flinch; instead, she advanced.
"Are you trying to accuse me, too, without proof, Ashgrave?" she challenged back, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "First the nobles, then the church, and now you? Is everyone in this kingdom so eager to see me dead that they'll conjure crimes out of thin air?"
She took a step toward him, using his own height against him by forcing him to look down at her defiance.
"What exactly do you think I did down there? Recite an incantation? Do you feel any residual magic? Because these," she held up her wrists, showing Rowan the mana cuffs glinting in the moonlight, "would be screaming if I so much as sparked a flame. Or are your senses so dulled now?"
"Don't ever say that," Rowan hissed at her, catching Sera off guard. This wasn't the reaction she was expecting from him. "I would never wish you dead. Not in this world, nor in every lifetime."
Sera opened her mouth but found herself unable to say a word.
Rowan's eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. He hadn't sensed any active spellcasting. The cuffs were silent. Her logic was a flawless defense. He knew, with certainty, that he had just been expertly played by her. That bottle tainted with her blood wasn't merely just an accident.
"I was just saying that your clumsiness was… conveniently timed."
Sera let out a derisive laugh.
"Yes, because nearly crushing myself on a wine rack is my chosen method of assassination of whom? How utterly dramatic of me to perform such acts before a great mage like you, Sir Ashgrave." She shook her head, turning away from him as if he were a lost cause.
"If you're looking for a conspiracy, look to the Argenthals who planted wards in my bedroom, not to me for having the audacity to be uncoordinated when you led me through a secret tunnel."
Rowan frowned. Obviously, she was the one who opened that passage and forced him to lead the way. This woman clearly knew how to twist facts to her favor.
However, as soon as the sun rose the next morning, Rowan proved his assumptions to be correct. The news of the mage-knights becoming violently ill, vomiting, and feverish reached him. The Argenthals' listening enchantments picked up the panicked guards blaming tainted supplies of the Church for giving them "rotten rewards."