The morning after Lira's return carried an air of deception. On the surface, the Verentis stronghold hummed with the familiar rhythms of military life—shouts from the drill yard, the ring of steel on steel, the scent of stew simmering in the mess. Yet beneath the calm lay the beginnings of a far more dangerous game.
Inside the command tent, the lanterns burned low, casting long shadows across the table where a sheet of fine parchment lay waiting. Achilles sat opposite his father, Duke Caldus Verentis, their eyes locked over the draft of a letter that would decide the next move.
"This will work," Achilles said, his voice low. "They expect me to be the one making demands. But if this comes from you, they'll think the old Duke is clinging to what power he has left. They'll underestimate us."
Duke Caldus gave a dry chuckle. "They've always underestimated us, son. That's why they've never been able to kill us."
The Duke picked up the quill and began to write in a hand that was sharp, deliberate, and utterly devoid of mercy:
> To the Esteemed House of Marestel,
You hold what is mine. I hold what is yours.
The terms are simple—return my daughter unharmed within three days, and Duke Maren will be released in the same state you left her. Fail to do so, and I will send your Duke back to you in pieces small enough to fit in a casket.
This matter will be settled without the interference of the Crown or the other Houses. We both know the King's hands are not clean, and I have no interest in involving his court in our affairs.
Any deception on your part will be repaid with equal treachery. Consider this your only warning.
— Duke Caldus Verentis
The quill scratched to a stop. Caldus blew gently on the ink to dry it before folding the parchment and pressing the Verentis crest deep into the hot wax seal. The crimson imprint of the roaring wolf glistened in the lamplight.
Kael, standing nearby with arms crossed, eyed the letter. "Three days. That's going to make them frantic. They won't have time to think clearly."
"Exactly," Achilles said. "Frantic people make mistakes. And mistakes are what we'll use to take back the mine."
In the corner of the tent, Skotos leaned against the pole, his face half-hidden in shadow. "And when they send their reply?"
Achilles glanced at him with a thin smile. "They won't know who they're really negotiating with. They'll believe they're playing against an aging Duke who wants his daughter back. The less they know about me, the sharper my blade will be when I finally strike."
The Duke handed the sealed letter to a waiting messenger—Corven, a rider whose loyalty was beyond question. "You leave now," Caldus ordered. "Travel the back roads. Avoid the villages. This letter must be placed directly in the hands of their highest officer. If anyone tries to take it from you, burn it and disappear."
Corven bowed deeply, tucking the letter into his satchel. "It will be done, my lord."
As the rider left into the cold dawn, Achilles studied the large map spread before them. The mark of the mana stone mine glared back at him like a challenge.
"They took my sister. They imprisoned my parents. And now they drain our land's lifeblood," Achilles said, his voice turning to steel. "In three days, we'll see if they value their Duke more than the gold and mana stones they're stealing."
Duke Caldus leaned back in his chair, his eyes meeting his son's. "And if they don't?"
A dangerous calm passed over Achilles' face. "Then we take everything."
Outside, Corven's horse vanished into the fog, carrying the bait straight into the viper's nest.
The council chamber of House Marestel was cloaked in unease. Gold chandeliers glimmered above, but their light only deepened the shadows gathered along the walls. Every noble seated at the long oak table felt the tension pressing like a storm about to break.
At the head sat Lady Ysoria Marestel, the Duke's elder sister, her expression tight as she unfolded the crimson-sealed letter bearing the Verentis wolf. Her voice carried across the chamber as she read aloud:
> You hold what is mine. I hold what is yours.
Return my daughter unharmed within three days, and Duke Maren will be released in the same state you left her. Fail, and I will send him back to you in pieces fit only for a casket.
— Duke Caldus Verentis
The silence that followed was heavier than iron.
Desmond Marestel, the Duke's son, slammed his fist against the table. "Lies! How can that decrepit wolf speak so boldly? His daughter is locked beneath our very feet—"
"Is she?" Ysoria's voice cut like a blade. Her eyes narrowed, and the entire council shifted uncomfortably at her tone.
Desmond blinked. "What do you mean? Of course she is. Father himself ordered—"
The doors burst open. A pale-faced guard stumbled in, armor rattling. He knelt, voice shaking. "My Lady… the prisoner. The girl… she is gone."
The chamber erupted.
"What do you mean gone?" Desmond roared, rising to his feet.
The guard lowered his head. "The cells beneath the estate were breached. There was no alarm, no trace of struggle. It is as if she vanished into thin air. We searched the tunnels twice. She is not there."
Shock rippled across the room. Advisors began muttering frantically, some pale with dread, others already pointing fingers.
Ysoria's face darkened. "When?"
"Two nights past, my Lady. We discovered the disappearance this morning… but with the letter arriving now—"
Her words were drowned by the sudden uproar.
"Two nights ago?" one noble spat. "Then this cannot be coincidence!"
"Could it be another House?" another demanded. "The mine has drawn envious eyes from all corners. If the girl was stolen, perhaps it is a ploy by another family to pit us against Verentis."
"But the letter—" a third cut in, waving a hand toward the parchment still lying on the table. "It claims she is in Caldus's hands. Could he have somehow breached our estate without us knowing? Is this letter his smug way of confessing?"
"Impossible!" Desmond bellowed. "That wolf has rotted on the border for two decades. His blades are dull, his wits slower than age! He cannot outmaneuver us!"
Yet doubt lingered, poisoning the air.
One advisor leaned forward, voice trembling. "If he truly has her… then what does that mean for the mine? Without the girl, our leverage against him is gone. And if the other Houses learn she was ever taken…" His words trailed into silence, the implication heavy.
Everyone in the chamber knew the truth: the mine was the lifeblood of House Marestel. The mana stones that poured from Verentis soil had already doubled their coffers, swelled their influence, and won them the King's favor. But if they were exposed as kidnappers and thieves? No alliance, not even the King's indulgence, could shield them from the wrath of the noble council.
Ysoria's eyes were ice. "So we face two possibilities," she said coldly. "Either Duke Caldus somehow stole back his daughter and now dares demand Maren's life in exchange… or another House has taken her, and seeks to turn us against Verentis to weaken us and seize the mine for themselves."
The room grew still, the weight of her words dragging on every shoulder.
Desmond sneered, though his bravado now seemed thinner. "What does it matter? Whether wolf or vulture, whoever took her will choke on their own schemes. We still hold the mine, we still hold the Crown's favor, and we will not be shaken."
But an advisor murmured, "And if the wolf is telling the truth? If he holds both our Duke and the girl? Then the scales tilt against us, my Lord."
The silence that followed made even Desmond falter.
Ysoria finally spoke, her voice a blade in the dark. "Three days. That is the time the Verentis wolf has given us. Whether trick or truth, we will uncover who holds the girl. Double the guards at the mine. Tighten our watch on every House near our borders. Send whispers to the Crown that Duke Caldus has grown reckless, threatening noble bloodlines." Her gaze cut across the table. "And above all—keep this disappearance a secret. If word spreads that we lost her, the other Houses will smell weakness, and weakness invites predators."
The nobles bowed their heads, though unease remained etched across their faces.
As the meeting adjourned, the letter from Duke Caldus still sat upon the council table. Its crimson seal of the wolf glared up at them like an omen, while beneath the estate's floors the cells lay empty, their chains rattling in the silence.
House Marestel had lost their prisoner.
And with her, they had lost control of the game.