Within the royal residence known as the Scholar's Keep, Dareth meditated, seated cross-legged upon the marble floor. Mana revolved around him in delicate strands, some thin as thread, others thick as rope. They twisted like serpents, weaving luminous patterns through the air.
The doors to the council chamber opened. Entering was the Assistant to the Head Councilman, a gnome named Dorin Margath. His azure robes fluttered in the current of magic. Wooden slippers tapped against stone as he approached with his hands folded behind his back.
"Lady Fraye of House Selmont has requested an audience with you, Head Councilman Dareth," he announced, his expression firm and professional.
Dareth rose with quiet grace, smoothing his robes before bowing. Dorin returned the gesture.
"I shall attend to her at once," Dareth replied as he walked past him.
The moment Dareth departed, Dorin dropped to his knees, sweat running down his temples. It had taken everything in him to stand upright beneath the pressure of that overwhelming mana.
Fraye waited in the manor's lobby, seated upon one of the gray couches. When Dareth entered, she rose immediately. Her face was tight with anger and worry.
"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded, holding up the letter. It crumpled in her grip.
With a casual motion, Dareth summoned his staff and drew a circle in the air. A barrier of mana formed around them, sealing the space from prying ears.
"It means exactly what it states," he replied evenly. "An order from the Head Councilman. From me."
He sat down and, with unnerving composure, lifted a cup of tea and took a measured sip.
Fraye stared at him in disbelief.
"How can you remain so calm?" she asked, her voice shaking with fury. "You sent me a letter smeared with the blood of the former Head Councilman. And within it, you demand that I commit something unforgivable."
Noticing her rising temper, Dareth gestured lightly for her to sit. The motion only enraged her further, and she flung the letter to the floor.
"I am sorry, Fraye," he said, still composed. "But it is an order. Refuse, and your father's reputation will suffer."
"You want me to frame your student, your most gifted apprentice, and my… my…" Her voice faltered.
Dareth leaned forward with a faint, knowing smile.
"Your lover? Your closest companion?" he asked, deliberately provoking her.
No one in Vyolmir knew of Fraye and Volhcard's relationship except Dareth, a few apprentices, and Madame Gretel. If the truth surfaced, the consequences would be ruinous. One might face execution. The other exile.
Dareth's expression shifted. The teasing vanished, replaced with stern resolve and a flicker of concern.
"It must be done, Fraye," he said quietly, setting down the teacup. "If you want that boy to have a future. He has told you about his visions. I know he has. And I know you fear what they foretell."
Fraye lowered herself onto the couch. She gripped the cushions tightly, her heart a tangle of reluctance, dread, and anger.
Her lips parted, yet only a soft, broken sound escaped.
Dareth approached and knelt before her. Resting his skeletal hands upon her shoulders, he spoke in a gentler tone.
"You understand my design. If we proceed, we secure his survival. The path will wound him, yes, but he will live. In time, he may even be pardoned."
He brushed aside a strand of her hair to see her eyes more clearly.
Tears streamed down her cheeks. When she met his gaze, there was love in it, fierce determination, and anguish. The fabric beneath her hands tore from the force of her grip.
"If I do this," she whispered, "the entire kingdom will despise him. No one will stand with him except us. If you pull the strings you speak of, his fate will be worse than death. To be cast out by his people. To be branded a monster by someone he trusts."
Dareth's hands loosened. He exhaled slowly, his voice unsteady as he looked toward the floor.
"It must be done," he murmured. "For the Almighty Glorious Life. For his future."
She seized his hands, feeling the cold hardness of bone beneath her fingers.
"If we go through with this… will he hate me enough to kill me?"
Silence settled over the lobby. Though shielded from sight and sound, the moment felt vast and isolating, as if nothing else in the world existed.
"I…" Dareth hesitated. "I believe he would forgive you. He would question the Almighty Glorious Life. He would struggle. But in the end, he would accept his burden and forgive you."
At his answer, Fraye broke down completely.
Dareth remained kneeling before her. If he had flesh, he might have wept. If he had lungs, he might have screamed. Instead, he stayed there in silence while the woman who loved his apprentice cried in agreement with the very plan that would destroy him.
Five days before the accusation, Fraye stood before a mirror, her expression cold and unwavering.
In sharp contrast, her gown shimmered brilliantly. It was diamond-hued and adorned with jewels and scales taken from a Lightning Wyvern. Evening gloves concealed her hands, and three necklaces of ruby, gold, and sapphire rested upon her collarbone.
Each piece caught the light with every slight movement, polished and immaculate. They were crafted with care and preserved just as carefully.
The soft click of the door broke her thoughts. As it opened, she adjusted her hair, securing it into a neat bun while the approaching figure drew nearer.
"Has he arrived, Madame Gretel?" she asked, fastening her jade earrings.
With her hands folded neatly, Madame Gretel bowed her head before replying.
"He has. All preparations are complete. May the Almighty Glorious Life ease the burden in your heart, my dear."
She embraced the young elf and gently stroked the back of her head. For a brief second, Fraye allowed herself to falter, releasing a trembling breath.
"My father has no idea what is about to happen. If he finds o—"
Madame Gretel interrupted softly.
"He will learn of it, and he will remain silent. You do not understand how deeply he loves you. Even if rumors spread, even if the entire kingdom believes you killed Lord Kaeloth, it will not matter to him."
The calm shattered as the clash of steel and the thud of bodies striking the floor echoed from outside. Shouts rang through the manor.
Both women stiffened. Gretel's warmth vanished instantly. Her hands slipped beneath her skirts, retrieving two daggers strapped to her thighs.
"It seems he has discovered your intentions," she said evenly. "I will buy you time to finish your final preparations."
She stepped toward the door, killing intent radiating from her like heat.
A faint metallic scent lingered around her blades, though they gleamed spotless in the light.
Fraye did not react to the smell nor to the sudden shift in demeanor. Part of her wished for Gretel to stay. Yet she understood that to see the plan through, she had to let her go.
Turning back to the mirror, she closed her eyes. A single tear slid down her cheek.
Outside, Madame Gretel moved down the corridor as the sounds of struggle intensified. She descended the staircase and turned toward the dining hall.
Corpses of maids and butlers lay scattered across the floor.
Blood streaked the walls and pooled along the tiles. From the kitchen doorway emerged a familiar figure.
Kaeloth stood there, his face devoid of emotion. His white shirt was soaked crimson, matching the stains upon his black trousers and brown leather shoes.
In his right hand, he held a white face towel blotched with blood, using it to wipe sweat from his brow. In his left rested a steel rapier.
The pommel was shaped like a serpent, the hilt emerald in color. Twin pointed ridges near its guard distinguished it from ordinary blades.
"It appears Lord Aldir was correct, as always," Kaeloth said calmly. "You are the head maid, are you not? Now tell me, where is the young lady?"
He leveled the rapier at Madame Gretel's chest.
A scoff escaped her as she lunged forward.
Kaeloth stepped back just in time as she closed the distance in an instant.
Her daggers shifted mid-motion, lengthening as metal extended outward. When she struck, Kaeloth parried both attacks with swift precision.
The weapons in her hands had grown to the length of short swords.
Kaeloth lifted an eyebrow but said nothing.
Madame Gretel advanced again, denying him even a moment to breathe. In a flash of blue steel, she slashed toward his throat with both blades, but he intercepted the strike with a sharp parry.
Kaeloth lunged, driving his rapier into her left shoulder. Blood welled instantly. He withdrew the blade and brought it down in a follow-up cut, only for her to kick his arm aside.
He slid backward across the blood-slick floor, grunting, then surged forward again. Their weapons collided in a storm of sparks, every motion calculated and lethal.
Steel rang through the hall as they evaded and countered in quick succession. Both moved with deadly elegance, though Kaeloth's style was refined and fluid, while Madame Gretel fought with feral intensity.
"You possess the skill of a seasoned assassin," Kaeloth remarked, creating space between them. "May I ask where you trained?"
He lowered into a guarded stance, rapier angled above his brow. Madame Gretel gave no reply as he advanced once more.
The metallic scent of blood thickened in the air, mingling with the faint odor of something smoldering nearby. Distracted for a split second, Kaeloth glanced behind him.
That was enough.
She carved across both his shoulders in twin arcs. Crimson seeped through his garments, yet his composure did not falter. With chilling precision, he thrust toward her throat. She deflected at the last instant, though the tip still grazed her neck, leaving a shallow cut along the left side.
He laughed softly and attacked again. She blocked the second thrust, but he twisted the motion into a slicing cut aimed at her throat.
Madame Gretel slammed her forehead into his, then unleashed a flurry of rapid strikes. The sudden increase in speed forced Kaeloth onto the defensive. He sidestepped, retreated, and parried as best he could, though several blades found their mark.
Blood stained nearly every inch of him.
Coughing, he spat a mixture of phlegm and blood that landed near her heels.
She turned her gaze toward him. A faint smirk curved his lips before he lunged with a barrage of thrusts. She struggled to intercept them all.
Wounds soon covered her body. She staggered back, breathing hard.
"Can you wield magic?" Kaeloth asked evenly. "Or do you lack an anchor?"
The question was mockery disguised as curiosity.
With a hiss, she spat bloodied saliva onto his trousers. As he glanced down in irritation, she drove both blades into his abdomen.
A breathless chuckle escaped him as blood spilled from his mouth. She glared up at him.
"Now we stand on equal ground," she whispered, wrenching her weapons free and lifting them for another strike.
Kaeloth laughed despite the blood pooling at his lips. Seizing the moment, he thrust his rapier into her stomach. He ripped it free and aimed for her chest, but even through the agony she managed to slash his left arm.
He cried out and stumbled backward, dropping the rapier before clutching his injured arm.
"Is this where our stories conclude, madam?" he asked, his tone still eerily composed.
Madame Gretel gave a strained laugh, her vision blurring as she regarded him with dimming eyes.
They faced one another in silence. Kaeloth bent down and retrieved his rapier with his uninjured hand.
"You intend to finish this with your weaker arm?" she asked, forcing herself upright.
"Even at death's door, I would never favor my right," he replied calmly. "But since we both stand at the brink, I shall make an exception."
He raised the blade and leveled its tip at her chest.
He stepped forward and broke into a dash, only to slow at the final moment. His blade barely pierced her chest before she caught the strike with her daggers and shoved him away.
Their blood streamed to the floor as Kaeloth exhaled sharply and let out a faint laugh. He aimed a cut at her hands, his movements swift but unsteady. Madame Gretel knocked the blow aside, yet he pressed on, lunging and pivoting to carve across her left hand.
Her index, middle, and ring fingers dropped to the ground as blood poured from the wound. She clenched her jaw, swallowing a scream, and retaliated by driving a blade into his right shoulder.
They stood there breathing heavily, eyes locked. Madame Gretel weakened faster than he did, bracing herself against the wall to remain upright.
She drew in a shaky breath and attempted another strike. Her motions were sluggish and disordered, and Kaeloth drove his rapier into her abdomen.
He pulled her closer, gripping the back of her head with his injured hand. The stench of sweat and blood clouded the air as they gasped for breath.
"You would have been a valuable asset in my campaign to dominate the trade networks of Relisquae," he murmured, twisting the rapier's hilt and forcing it deeper.
Blood spilled from her lips as she wheezed and collapsed onto her back, propping herself against the wall while struggling to breathe.
Kaeloth released a tired sigh and retrieved a scroll marked with the insignia of a seed sprouting into a sapling. As he unfurled it, the spell activated, knitting together his smaller cuts and sealing shallow wounds.
Even so, each breath remained strained as he stepped over the bodies he had left behind. Before reaching the staircase, he glanced up and saw Fraye standing there, calm and untouched.
He tilted his head, confusion narrowing his gaze. A sudden, searing pain tore through him. Heat spread across his body as he glimpsed the sharp tip of a blade protruding from his chest.
With a weak turn of his head, he saw Madame Gretel behind him, pale and trembling, having driven a dagger into his back.
"I would not fail my final duty as head maid," she whispered before collapsing onto the floor.
Still in shock, he looked toward Fraye. She advanced and drove a jagged crimson crystal into the center of his chest.
Only a few words escaped him.
"How pathetic of me…"
He sank to his knees, breath faltering, until his head drooped and life left him.
Fraye clenched her fists and squeezed her eyes shut. Moments later, the manor doors swung open and Dareth stepped inside, smoke clinging to his clothes.
"My apologies for the scent. His driver and guards proved troublesome. I see you have fulfilled your part," he said, his gaze settling on Kaeloth's body.