Three days had passed since Gray's victory at the Iron Circle, and the change in their small home was like night and day. The scent of fresh bread and bacon filled the air instead of dampness and despair. Lyanna hummed while she cooked—something she hadn't done since their parents died. Vincent sat at the table practicing his letters on actual parchment instead of scratching in the dirt.
But Gray knew that comfort could breed complacency, and complacency was death.
He stood by the window, watching the street below with the paranoid attention to detail that had kept him alive through countless political intrigues in his past life. For the third morning in a row, the same beggar had positioned himself across from their building. The man was too clean, his clothes too strategically torn, and his eyes too alert.
Grimm's man, Gray concluded. He's having me watched.
"Gray?" Lyanna's voice pulled him from his surveillance. "You've been staring out that window for an hour. What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong," he lied smoothly. "I'm just thinking about our next steps."
Vincent looked up from his writing practice, ink staining his fingers. "What kind of next steps?"
Gray moved away from the window and sat at the table with his siblings. The morning light streaming through their now-clean windows revealed how much their faces had already filled out with proper nutrition. Three days of real food had worked miracles.
"We can't stay here," Gray announced.
Both siblings froze.
"What do you mean?" Lyanna asked, fear creeping into her voice. "Gray, this place isn't much, but it's home. And we just paid the rent for three months in advance—"
"It's not safe," Gray interrupted gently but firmly. "People are asking questions about where our money came from. Soon, those questions will lead to answers, and some of those answers could be dangerous for us."
It wasn't the whole truth—he couldn't explain that one of Aldric's chief lieutenants was having him investigated—but it was true enough.
"Are we in trouble?" Vincent asked, his young voice tight with worry.
"Not yet," Gray said. "But we will be if we don't plan ahead." He leaned forward, meeting both their eyes. "I'm going to tell you something that might sound impossible, but I need you to trust me completely."
Lyanna and Vincent exchanged glances, then nodded.
"Our family's fall wasn't just political maneuvering or bad luck," Gray began carefully. "It was a carefully orchestrated destruction designed to erase the Reinford name forever. Uncle Aldric didn't just want our lands and titles—he wanted to make sure no one would ever challenge his version of history."
"We know that," Vincent said bitterly. "Everyone in the capital knows Aldric called Father a traitor before he died."
"But what if I told you that Father wasn't a traitor at all? What if I could prove that Aldric murdered his way to power and has been living off stolen Reinford wealth for twenty years?"
The silence that followed was profound.
"Gray," Lyanna whispered, "that's... that's treason to even suggest. If anyone heard you—"
"They'd execute us," Gray finished calmly. "Which is why we need to be very, very careful about how we proceed."
He stood and walked to the loose floorboard, retrieving not just the signet ring this time, but a small leather pouch he had kept hidden even from his siblings.
"Father left us more than just sentimental tokens," Gray said, opening the pouch to reveal several items: a key made of black iron, a small scroll sealed with red wax, and a map fragment showing what looked like building layouts.
Vincent's eyes widened. "I've never seen those before."
"Because Father hid them where only someone with Reinford blood could find them," Gray replied. It was a lie—he had known about these items from his previous life, when he had discovered them too late to save his family. "The key opens a safety deposit box in the Merchant's Quarter. The scroll contains information about our family's true assets. And the map..."
Gray's finger traced the faded ink lines. "Shows the location of our real family vault."
"A vault?" Lyanna leaned closer, her eyes bright with possibility. "You mean there's still Reinford treasure hidden somewhere?"
"Not just treasure," Gray said quietly. "Records. Proof of transactions, correspondence, evidence of everything Aldric did to destroy us. Father was many things, but he wasn't foolish. He suspected what was coming and made preparations."
Actually, I made those preparations after discovering Aldric's plot, but I was murdered before I could act on them. This time will be different.
"So what do we do?" Vincent asked, his young voice trembling with excitement and fear.
Gray folded the map carefully and returned it to the pouch. "First, we disappear. Not permanently, but long enough for people to stop watching us so closely. I know a place in the Merchant's Quarter where we can rent rooms under false names."
"False names?" Lyanna looked troubled. "Gray, this sounds dangerous—"
"Everything we do from now on will be dangerous," Gray said honestly. "The moment I decided to fight back instead of accepting our fate, we stepped into a game where the stakes are life and death. But Lyanna..." He took her hands in his. "Do you want to spend the rest of your life scrubbing tavern floors? Do you want Vincent to grow up thinking his family name is a curse?"
Tears welled in her eyes. "No, but—"
"Then trust me." Gray's voice carried absolute conviction. "I know this seems impossible. I know it sounds like madness. But I swear to you, by our parents' graves and by the blood in our veins, I will restore our family's honor. I will make the name Reinford feared and respected again. And anyone who profited from our suffering will pay in full."
Vincent slammed his small fist on the table. "I'm with you, brother. Whatever it takes."
Lyanna looked between her brothers—one burning with youthful determination, the other carrying a weight of certainty that seemed impossible for his age—and made her decision.
"What do you need us to do?"
Two hours later, Gray walked through the Merchant's Quarter alone, his siblings safely hidden in their temporary lodgings under the names "Lydia" and "Victor Greywater." The false identity papers had cost him ten silver pieces, but they were expertly forged and would pass casual inspection.
The Merchant's Quarter was a maze of banks, trading houses, and shops that catered to the capital's wealthy elite. Gray had spent countless hours here in his previous life, negotiating deals and managing the vast Reinford commercial interests.
Now, he stood before the Golden Vault Bank—a modest establishment that specialized in discrete services for clients who valued privacy above prestige.
The black iron key felt warm in his pocket as he approached the clerk's window.
"I need to access a safety deposit box," Gray said quietly, producing the key and a small copper token that bore the Reinford crest.
The clerk, a thin man with nervous eyes, examined both items carefully. "Box number?"
"Seventeen."
"Name?"
Gray hesitated for just a moment. Using his real name was a risk, but the box would have been registered under Reinford family authority.
"Edmund Reinford," he said, giving his father's name.
The clerk's eyes widened slightly at the infamous name, but professional discretion kept him from commenting. He consulted a ledger, made a notation, and gestured toward a corridor lined with iron doors.
"This way, please."
Box seventeen was located in the deepest part of the vault, where the most valuable and sensitive materials were stored. The clerk used his master key in conjunction with Gray's black iron key to open the heavy door.
"You have one hour," the clerk said, then discretely withdrew.
Gray stepped into the small, windowless room and lit the oil lamp provided. Inside the deposit box were items that made his heart race with possibilities:
A leather portfolio containing detailed financial records showing massive transfers of Reinford assets to Aldric's accounts in the weeks before Josh's assassination
Letters in Aldric's handwriting discussing plans to "eliminate the heir" and "complete the transition"
A list of nobles who had participated in dividing up Reinford lands and properties
Most importantly, a sealed document bearing the royal seal—a contract granting House Reinford perpetual stewardship over certain strategic territories, signed by the late king himself
This is it, Gray thought, his hands trembling slightly as he examined the documents. Proof of everything. But how do I use it without revealing how I knew it was here?
As he carefully packed the documents into a leather satchel, Gray's mind was already working on the next phase of his plan. These papers were powerful weapons, but they had to be deployed carefully. One mistake, one premature revelation, and Aldric would have them all killed before they could blink.
He was so absorbed in planning that he almost missed the soft sound of footsteps in the corridor outside.
Gray extinguished the lamp and pressed himself against the wall just as shadows appeared under the door. Someone was moving through the vault, and they were trying to be quiet about it.
Too many people know I'm here, he realized. The clerk, anyone who saw me enter the bank...
The footsteps paused directly outside Box seventeen.
Gray drew the practice sword he had concealed beneath his cloak and waited. If someone was here to kill him, they were about to discover that rumors of his fighting ability had been greatly understated.
But instead of trying to force the door, the intruder did something unexpected: they knocked.
Three soft taps, followed by two, followed by one.
Gray's blood ran cold. That was the Reinford family code—a signal used by trusted retainers and allies to identify themselves.
Impossible. Everyone who knew that code is dead.
Against his better judgment, Gray opened the door a crack and peered out.
Standing in the corridor was a figure in a dark hooded cloak, but what shocked Gray into silence was what he could see of the face beneath the hood: the weathered features and steel-gray eyes of Sir Gareth Ironwood, the former captain of the Reinford guard.
The man who was supposed to have died defending their last property from debt collectors.
"Young master," Gareth said quietly, "we need to talk."
In a private room above the Golden Vault Bank, two ghosts sat across from each other and tried to reconcile the impossible.
"You're supposed to be dead," Gray said bluntly.
"As are you," Gareth replied, pulling back his hood to reveal a face marked by two years of hard living and harder choices. "Josh Reinford died twenty years ago. Yet here sits someone who not only knows the location of your father's most secret cache, but carries himself like..." The old knight's eyes narrowed. "Like someone who remembers things he shouldn't remember."
Gray studied the man who had once been like a second father to him. Gareth looked older, scarred, but his eyes still held the same unwavering loyalty that had made him legendary among the Reinford household.
"How did you survive?" Gray asked instead of answering the implied question.
"Barely." Gareth's voice was grim. "The debt collectors were actually assassins sent by Grimm. They wanted to make sure no loyal Reinford servants survived to tell inconvenient truths. I killed three of them before taking a sword through the lung. Spent six months recovering in a monastery, another year tracking down what happened to the scattered household staff."
"And what did you find?"
"That half of them are dead, and the other half are too terrified to speak." Gareth leaned forward. "But I also found evidence. Proof of things that would make even Aldric's allies turn against him. The question is..." His eyes bored into Gray's. "How does Edmund Reinford's sixteen-year-old son know about hiding places that were established before he was born?"
The moment of truth had arrived. Gray could lie, could try to maintain his cover story, but looking into Gareth's eyes, he realized that might be the wrong choice.
This was a man who had nearly died defending his family. A man who had spent two years in hiding, gathering evidence and waiting for a chance to strike back. A man who had just revealed himself despite enormous personal risk.
Sometimes, Gray realized, you had to trust someone completely or not at all.
"Because," Gray said quietly, "I'm not Edmund's son. I'm Edmund's son."
Gareth stared at him in silence for a long moment.
"That's impossible."
"So is you being alive, yet here we are."
Gray stood and walked to the window, looking out over the city where his family had once held power and influence. When he spoke again, his voice carried the weight of absolute truth.
"I died twenty years ago in our family home, betrayed by the man I trusted most. I died knowing that everyone I loved would suffer for my failures. And somehow—I don't know how, and I don't know why—I woke up three days ago in this body, with all my memories intact and a chance to fix everything I got wrong the first time."
The silence stretched between them like a drawn blade.
Finally, Gareth spoke: "Prove it."
"You have a scar on your left shoulder from when I was twelve and insisted on sparring with real swords instead of practice weapons," Gray said without turning around. "You told my father that someday my impatience would get me killed, and he said that someday my impatience might save the kingdom. You were both right."
Gareth's intake of breath was audible.
"The night before my wedding to Lady Catherine Sterling—a wedding that never happened because I died two days before—you told me that marriage was like sword fighting. Sometimes you attack, sometimes you defend, but you never, ever drop your guard."
"Josh?" The name was barely a whisper.
Gray turned around, and for a moment, Gareth saw not the sixteen-year-old boy, but the twenty-five-year-old man who had been like a son to him.
"Hello, old friend. Sorry I kept you waiting."
Sir Gareth Ironwood, veteran of a hundred battles and survivor of political purges that had claimed the lives of kings, buried his face in his hands and wept.
"Lyanna and Vincent?" Gareth asked after he had composed himself.
"Safe," Gray assured him. "Hidden under false names until we can figure out our next move. They don't know the truth yet—I'm not sure they could handle it."
"And what is our next move?" Gareth's voice carried the tone of a man ready to follow orders once again.
Gray smiled—the first completely genuine smile he had worn since his rebirth.
"We're going to do something I should have done twenty years ago," he said. "We're going to destroy Aldric Blackthorne so completely that people will forget he ever existed. But first, we're going to make him watch as everything he stole from us is stripped away piece by piece."
Gareth nodded grimly. "Where do we start?"
Gray pulled out the documents from the safety deposit box and spread them across the table.
"With these. Financial records proving Aldric embezzled Reinford funds. Letters proving he planned my assassination. And most importantly..." Gray held up the document bearing the royal seal. "Legal proof that several territories Aldric claims as his own actually belong to House Reinford in perpetuity."
"The crown won't want to hear this," Gareth warned. "Too many powerful people profited from our fall."
"Then we make sure the crown doesn't have a choice," Gray replied. "Gareth, in your travels, did you happen to encounter any other survivors from our household?"
"A few. Marcus Steele is alive—hiding in the eastern provinces under an assumed name. Lady Evelyn Whitmore escaped to the Free Cities. There are others, scattered to the winds but still breathing."
Gray's smile turned predatory. "Excellent. Send word to all of them. Tell them... tell them that House Reinford remembers its debts, both those owed to us and those we owe to others. Tell them the time for hiding is over."
"And if they ask who sent the message?"
Gray thought for a moment, then pulled the signet ring from his finger and pressed it into a stick of sealing wax, creating a perfect impression of the Reinford coat of arms.
"Show them this, and tell them that the dead have returned to collect what's owed."
As the seal cooled and hardened, both men stared at the ancient symbol that had once commanded respect throughout the Kingdom of Belanore.
Soon, Gray vowed silently, it would again.
But first, they had a war to plan.