Smith arrived at the chamber and knocked lightly. A deep baritone from within responded, bidding him to enter.
Pushing the heavy wooden door aside, he stepped into the grand hall. It was larger than any living room, discreet and set apart from the rest of the manor. The ceiling arched high, supported by carved stone beams that disappeared into shadow. A crimson lantern hung in the center, its glow casting wavering patterns across the walls, as if the very stones breathed. The scent of burning cedar lingered in the air, sharp yet strangely calming.
A circle of carved chairs made the place even more unique. Their designs were symbols of serpents, blades, and wings etched into the wood-signs of power and dominion. There was no way beauty and menace could be woven more perfectly; the hall itself was a masterpiece of intimidation.
Kael was seated with a few guards at his side. His posture was regal, his mere presence suffocating. As Lyron crossed the short distance toward him, Kael lifted his hand, dismissing them with a single motion.
They obeyed instantly-such was the fear and reverence he commanded. The clatter of their boots faded until silence consumed the chamber once more. Before Kael stood a square table of polished oak. Upon it rested a decanter of dark wine, its surface glimmering in the lantern light, beside it two goblets and a bucket of ice stones.
"Good evening, Lord Kael," Lyron greeted quietly, his voice almost a whisper.
"Sit," Kael said in his low, commanding tone, gesturing to the chair opposite him.
There was no music tonight, no maidens dancing in the corners as they sometimes did when Kael entertained his council. Instead, a heavy silence loomed. Kael's mind was burdened, his fury sharp as steel. The news he had received weighed heavily, and he could not be calmed by mere words over parchment or messenger. He needed to see Lyron in person.
Lyron sat opposite him, trying his best to remain composed, though his heart thudded unevenly in his chest. He knew very well why Kael had summoned him. It was about the new Duke of Lyria. The mere thought made his stomach ache and his palms damp.
"So... you know what has happened?" Kael's cold voice cut the silence like a blade. "The Duke of Lyria must pay for this. He is a threat to us all. If he remains in power, he will ruin everything we've built."
His words dripped with venom. The Duke of Lyria was Kael's greatest enemy, a danger to all who lived by the code of shadows. There could be no peace with him, for the Duke would betray them to the authorities without hesitation. His very existence was intolerable.
Meeting Kael's piercing gaze, Lyron swallowed hard. He understood the necessity-but he feared what would come next.
"My lord, you know this task will not be easy. His defenses are tight. If anything goes wrong, I will be the one caught. I do not wish to rot in a dungeon... or die like a dog," Smith admitted, his voice breaking under the weight of the truth.
Kael leaned back, eyes sharp as ice. His presence was overwhelming-his tall frame, broad shoulders, and chiseled face spoke of cold perfection. He was elegance wrapped in danger, a man carved to intimidate.
"The deal is simple," Kael said, voice low but fierce. "The Duke of Lyria must die. We already know the next Duke of Lyria. Have you forgotten our vision? To build the greatest power this land has ever known? Nothing-no man, no crown-must stand in our way."
Lyron nodded, though his heart pounded like a drum. "Then tell me, my lord... what do you want me to do?"
Kael's eyes glimmered like steel under torchlight. "Kill him, Smith. You are the only one I trust for this. Eliminate the Duke of Lyria."
Lyron's breath caught. Though he had spilled blood many times, this was different. To kill a Governor-protected by guards, walls, and power-was near impossible.
"My lord, this is madness. To kill the Duke of Lyria? His protection is unlike any other. If something goes wrong, it will all fall on me."
Kael's gaze hardened. He was about to respond when a servant rushed to his side, whispering urgently in his ear.
Kael took the message, his expression darkening by the second.
"What?!" Kael's voice thundered, rattling the chamber. His fist slammed the table, shaking the goblets. "Tell me this is a jest!"
The servant shrank back in fear, his body trembling. Lyron could not hear the words, but Kael's reaction chilled his blood more than the coldest winter wind.
Kael hurled the parchment across the room, fury boiling over. His perfect composure shattered-he seized the goblet and dashed it to the floor, the wine staining the stones like blood. The table soon followed, crashing across the hall with a deafening crack.
Lyron leapt to his feet, alarmed. Kael's rage was terrifying, the air around him charged like a storm about to break.
"My lord! Calm yourself, I beg you. Do not harm yourself," Smith said, gripping Kael's arm with surprising courage and forcing him back into the chair.
"Release me, Lyron!" Kael roared, struggling like a beast cornered.
"Not until you tell me what troubles you. I cannot help if you stay silent," Smith pressed, his eyes steady though his knees threatened to buckle.
At last, Kael stilled, his chest rising and falling as he drew in deep, ragged breaths. His perfect features, once composed, now looked strained, pale with suppressed fury.
"It is the Duke of Lyria..." he finally breathed, voice low as a growl. "He has done the unthinkable