Senator Harrow's mansion was exactly the kind of ostentatious display Kael expected from a corrupt politician—three stories of white marble, manicured gardens, and guards posted at every entrance. The man lived like a king while the people he was supposed to represent scraped by in the lower districts.
Kael and Lyra watched from the shadows of a nearby building, studying the patrol patterns, counting guards, looking for weaknesses.
"Six guards visible," Lyra murmured. "Probably more inside. Plus servants, which means witnesses."
"We don't need to fight them," Kael said. "Just avoid them."
"Easier said than done."
They waited until midnight, when the household retired and the guard changed shifts. In that brief window of confusion and transition, they moved.
Lyra went first, scaling the garden wall with practiced ease. Kael followed, boosted by the unnatural strength Soulrender granted him. They dropped into the garden, landing silently in the shadow of a hedge.
A guard walked past, torch held high, seeing nothing.
They crossed the garden like ghosts, reaching the mansion's east wall. Lyra produced a set of lockpicks, working at a servant's entrance while Kael kept watch.
The lock clicked. They slipped inside.
The interior was even more lavish than the exterior—expensive carpets, paintings worth more than most people earned in a lifetime, furniture inlaid with gold. Harrow's corruption had served him well.
They moved through the darkened halls, avoiding the few servants still awake, following the mental map Lyra had memorized from stolen architectural plans. Harrow's study was on the second floor, overlooking the gardens.
They found it easily enough, the door locked but not bolted. Lyra had it open in seconds.
The study was a politician's wet dream—shelves of leather-bound books, a massive oak desk, filing cabinets that probably held enough secrets to destroy dozens of careers. A portrait of Harrow himself hung above the fireplace, looking stern and noble.
"Hypocrite," Kael muttered, moving to the desk.
They searched quickly but thoroughly, looking for anything related to Julian. Most of the papers were mundane—Senate correspondence, proposed legislation, meeting notes. But in a locked drawer at the bottom of the desk, Lyra found something interesting.
"Letters," she said, holding them up. "Between Harrow and Julian. And they're recent."
Kael took them, scanning quickly. His blood went cold as he read.
"They're planning something," he said. "Something big. There's going to be a vote in the Senate next week—new regulations on the Merchants' Guild, more oversight, more restrictions on their operations."
"That would hurt Julian's business," Lyra said.
"Which is why he's bribing Harrow to ensure it doesn't pass. But there's more." Kael held up another letter. "Harrow's been helping Julian identify his enemies in the Senate. People who want to investigate the guild's activities. Julian's been... dealing with them."
"Killing them?"
"Making them disappear, one way or another. Three Senators in the last six months. All ruled accidents or natural causes."
"Gods," Lyra breathed. "Julian's been assassinating Senators?"
"With Harrow's help. And in exchange, Harrow gets money, protection, and Julian's support in his own political ambitions." Kael's hands clenched on the letters, crumpling the expensive paper. "This is bigger than I thought. Julian's not just running a criminal empire—he's subverting the entire government."
"These letters are evidence," Lyra said. "We could take them to the authorities, to other Senators—"
"And who would believe us? We're criminals, Lyra. A dead man and an assassin. Our word means nothing against a Senator and a Guild Master."
"Then what do we do?"
Kael thought for a moment, then smiled coldly. "We use them the same way Julian does. As leverage."
A sound from outside the study—footsteps in the hall.
They froze, listening. The footsteps came closer, stopped outside the door.
The handle turned.
Kael and Lyra moved as one, pressing themselves against the wall behind the door as it swung open. A figure entered, carrying a candle, muttering something about forgotten documents.
Senator Harrow himself, dressed in a nightshirt, his thinning hair disheveled.
He moved to his desk, didn't notice the shadows behind him until it was too late. Lyra struck first, her hand clamping over his mouth to stifle his scream, her knife at his throat.
"Quiet," Kael said softly, stepping into Harrow's view. "Make a sound and she cuts your throat."
Harrow's eyes went wide with terror, recognizing the danger he was in. He nodded frantically.
"Good," Kael said. "We're going to have a conversation, Senator. A very honest conversation. If you lie to me, my friend here will know, and you'll lose a finger. Lie five times, and you'll lose something more important. Understand?"
Another frantic nod.
"Let him breathe," Kael told Lyra. She removed her hand from Harrow's mouth but kept the knife at his throat.
"Who are you?" Harrow gasped. "What do you want?"
"I'm someone you helped Julian Voss destroy," Kael said. "And I want to know everything about your arrangement with him."
Recognition flickered in Harrow's eyes. "Kael Voss. Gods, the rumors are true. You're alive."
"Barely. Now talk. Your deal with Julian. Everything."
Harrow was a coward at heart, like most corrupt men, and he talked. He spilled everything—how Julian had approached him years ago with an offer of mutual benefit. How the bribes had started small but grown larger. How Harrow had helped Julian eliminate rivals and obstacles. How deep the corruption ran, not just in the Senate but throughout the city's government.
Kael listened, his anger growing with every word. It was worse than he'd imagined. Julian had his hooks in dozens of officials, creating a web of corruption that protected him from any legal consequence.
"How many?" Kael asked when Harrow finished. "How many people has Julian killed with your help?"
"I don't know exact numbers," Harrow stammered. "Twenty? Thirty? Most were criminals themselves, so—"
"So they didn't matter?" Kael's voice was cold. "Tell me, Senator, do my family matter? My father, Aldric Voss? My mother and sister?"
Harrow's face went pale. "I... I didn't know about that specifically. Julian doesn't tell me everything—"
"But you knew people were dying. You knew Julian was a murderer. And you helped him anyway, for money and power."
"Please," Harrow begged. "I can help you. I can testify against Julian, bring him down—"
"Your testimony is worthless," Kael said. "You're a traitor and a murderer yourself. No one would believe you."
"Then what do you want?"
"Justice," Kael replied. Then he nodded to Lyra.
"Wait!" Harrow tried to scream, but Lyra's knife silenced him forever, opening his throat in one smooth motion.
The Senator crumpled, blood pooling on his expensive carpet, his eyes wide and glassy with death.
Kael felt nothing. No satisfaction, no guilt. Just emptiness.
"Was that justice?" Lyra asked quietly, cleaning her knife. "Or just more revenge?"
"Does it matter?" Kael replied. "He was a monster. The world's better off without him."
"Maybe. But how many more monsters until you're satisfied? How much blood before the scales are balanced?"
"I don't know," Kael admitted. "But I'm not stopping now."
They staged the scene to look like a botched robbery, took a few valuables to sell the illusion, and left the way they'd come. By the time Harrow's body was discovered in the morning, they were back at the Golden Griffin, washing blood from their hands.
"Julian will know," Lyra said, scrubbing at a stubborn stain. "He'll know Harrow's death wasn't random."
"Good," Kael said. "Let him know. Let him realize his protections are failing, that his empire is crumbling. Fear is a weapon too."
"And when he comes for us in return?"
"Then we'll be ready."
But as Kael lay in bed that night, Lyra asleep beside him, he couldn't shake Lyra's question.
How much blood before the scales were balanced?
How many deaths before revenge turned into something darker, something that consumed him completely?
"Does it matter?" Soulrender whispered in his mind. "They all deserve death. Julian, his allies, everyone who stood by and let your family die."
"Maybe," Kael thought back. "But where does it end?"
"It ends when we say it ends," the sword replied. "When every enemy is dead and we stand atop a mountain of corpses, victorious."
Kael closed his eyes, trying to shut out the sword's voice, trying to remember what he was fighting for.
Revenge? Justice? Or just the sweet release of violence?
He didn't know anymore.
And that scared him more than anything Julian could do.
* * *
END OF CHAPTER 24