The dawn at the Voss residence arrived with an emotional hangover that weighed heavier than lead.
Kael sat at the dining room table, surrounded by the spoils of the previous night. Papers. Mountains of papers. Loan contracts with abusive clauses, letters of veiled threat between Nikolas and his creditors, notes on trade routes and profit projections.
'Trash,' Kael thought, flipping a page with disdain. 'Boring, bureaucratic, legal trash.'
He had hoped for a written confession of murder, or at least an explicit bribe to an imperial official. Something juicy. Something he could nail to the local magistrate's door and watch the world burn.
Instead, he had proof that Nikolas Kladis was a ruthless usurer and a bad business partner.
'Congratulations, Kael,' he told himself. 'You've risked everyone's necks to discover that water is wet and the rich are greedy. Brilliant strategy.'
Of course, the documents were useful. They proved the connection with Torren. They proved the intent to absorb the Voss business. They were the ammunition for a long and tedious legal war. But Kael didn't have time for legal wars. And he definitely didn't have patience for judges who were probably already on Torren's payroll.
He needed a cannon, and he had stolen a slingshot.
Elara entered the dining room. She wore the same dress as the night before, now wrinkled and with a wine stain on the hem. Her left cheek, where Daemon had struck her, sported an ugly, purple and yellow bruise that makeup could no longer hide.
She sat across from Kael without saying a word, staring at the papers with empty eyes.
"Did you find anything?" she asked, her voice hoarse.
"I found that Nikolas has horrible handwriting and even worse morality," Kael replied, without looking up.
"But nothing that will send him to the gallows tomorrow morning."
Elara dropped her head into her hands.
"Then it was for nothing. All that risk... Daemon's strike... the escape..."
"It was not for nothing," Kael corrected.
"We know the plan. We know the deadlines. And we know they are desperate. Desperation makes people make mistakes."
"We are desperate too," she murmured.
"Yes, but we are smarter. Or at least," Kael picked a pear from a fruit bowl and took a bite.
"Eat something. You look like a ghost; you need to regain your strength."
Before Elara could answer, a loud crash shook the house.
It wasn't a knock on the door. It was the door ceasing to exist.
The sound of splintering wood and shattering metal echoed like an explosion. Screams in the street. Heavy footsteps, many footsteps, invading the foyer.
Kael jumped up, his chair falling backward.
'Ah. Nikolas's response. Quick. Predictable. And noisy.'
"Nia!" Kael shouted.
The girl ran in from the kitchen, her eyes wide with terror. Aldric came down the stairs two at a time, his mercenary sword already in hand, but not in full armor.
"Back!" Aldric roared, pushing Elara and Nia toward the corner of the room.
Six men entered the dining room. They were not city guards. They wore no uniforms. They were the lowest level of mercenaries: port thugs with clubs, hand axes, and long knives. They smelled of stale sweat and cheap violence.
And they hadn't come to talk.
"Break everything!" shouted the leader, a man with a scar running across his nose, giving him a rabid look.
"The boss wants them to learn respect!"
Chaos erupted.
One of the mercenaries overturned the dining table. The papers—Kael's precious spoils—flew through the air. Plates smashed. Food scattered on the floor.
Aldric stepped forward, blocking the path toward the women.
"One more step and I cut off your legs," the knight growled.
The leader laughed.
"A single guard for all this trash? Get him, lads!"
Three mercenaries lunged at Aldric.
Kael backed into the shadows, grabbing Nia's arm and pulling her behind a heavy cabinet.
'Observe,' he ordered himself, suppressing the instinct to draw his own dagger. 'Aldric cannot fight like a Drayvar Knight. He has to fight like a thug. If he uses advanced technique, it exposes us.'
Aldric knew it. Kael saw the frustration on his knight's face. He could have killed these three idiots in two seconds with three precise thrusts. Instead, he had to block clumsily with the flat of the sword, shove one with his shoulder, and deliver a low kick to the third.
It was a dirty, ugly fight. Overturned tables, chairs used as shields.
While Aldric contained three, the other three dedicated themselves to systematic destruction.
They shattered the display cases. They ripped the curtains. One took a club and began hammering the walls, making holes in the plaster, seeking to destroy for the sheer pleasure of it.
Donal and Martha appeared in the doorway, alerted by the noise.
"No! Please!" Donal cried, seeing the work of his life being destroyed.
"Stop!"
The mercenary leader turned toward him. He smiled, showing yellow teeth.
"Mr. Voss! Greetings from Nikolas Kladis."
He walked toward Donal and punched the merchant in the stomach, doubling him over. Donal fell to the floor, gasping, struggling for air.
"Donal!" Martha cried, throwing herself over her husband to protect him.
The mercenary grabbed her by the hair and tossed her aside like a sack of rags. Martha hit the wall and stayed there, sobbing.
"Mom! Dad!" Elara cried, trying to run toward them.
Aldric, busy blocking an axe-swing, could not stop her.
But Kael did.
He emerged from his hiding place and grabbed Elara's wrist, stopping her short.
"No," he hissed in her ear.
"If you go there, they'll use you against them. Stay here."
"They're hurting them!" Elara cried, fighting his grip.
"They are sending a message," Kael corrected coldly.
"If they wanted to kill them, they would be dead already. This is an act."
The mercenary leader stood over Donal, placing a heavy boot on the merchant's hand.
"Listen closely, old man," he said, pressing down until Donal screamed in pain.
"Mr. Kladis is very disappointed. Stealing at his party. Running away like rats. Insulting his son."
He leaned down, bringing his ugly face close to Donal's.
"You have twenty-four hours. You return what you stole. And you hand over the girl. If not... next time we won't come to break furniture. We'll come to break bones. And we'll start with the little one."
He pointed to where Nia was hidden, trembling.
'Threatening children, Nikolas. You truly are a genius of crime.'
"Let's go!" the leader ordered.
"They've understood."
The mercenaries retreated, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake. One of them spat on the floor before leaving. Aldric remained on guard, breathing heavily, with a superficial cut on his arm bleeding onto his mercenary shirt.
When the last thug left and their laughter faded down the street, silence returned to the house. But it was a broken silence.
The room was devastated. Splintered furniture. Broken ceramics. Papers—the stolen documents—trampled and stained with mud and food.
Donal huddled on the floor, cradling his bruised hand. Martha cried hysterically in the corner.
Elara broke free from Kael and ran toward her parents, dropping to her knees between them, embracing them, mixing her tears with theirs.
Kael stood in the middle of the mess. He looked around with a critical eye.
'Minimal structural damage. Psychological damage... total.'
He knelt and picked up one of the contracts from the floor. It was wrinkled and had the imprint of a boot marked in black ink over Nikolas's signature.
Aldric approached, sheathing his sword with a furious click.
"I could have killed them," the knight growled, looking at the smashed door.
"All of them. They were amateurs. Trash."
"And then we would have had the city guard here in ten minutes asking why a simple bodyguard has the skill of a knight," Kael replied without looking at him.
"You did the right thing. You contained the damage."
"Contained the damage?" Aldric pointed to the family crying on the floor.
"Look at them, Kael. They are broken."
Kael looked at the Vosses.
Donal trembled uncontrollably. It wasn't just physical pain; it was the total collapse of his world. He had tried to play by the rules, he had tried to be brave, and the response had been brutal violence in his own home.
Martha kept repeating "they are going to kill us, they are going to kill us" like a mantra of madness.
And Elara...
Elara was silent.
Kael observed her. She was hugging her mother, but her eyes were not closed. They were open, fixed on the shattered wall in front of her.
There was something in her expression. Fear was still there, yes. But something else was forming beneath it. Something hard. Something Kael recognized because he saw it in the mirror every day.
Resignation. And decision.
Kael walked toward them. His steps crunched over the broken glass.
"Donal," Kael said. His voice lacked the warmth of comfort. It was the voice of a doctor assessing a gangrenous wound.
"Are you alright?"
Donal looked up. His eyes were glazed.
"It's over," the man whispered.
"We can't fight this. We are not... we are not like you, young lord. We don't have swords. We don't have power. We are just merchants."
He looked around, at the ruins of his home.
"If we continue... they will kill Nia. They promised."
"It's a threat," Kael said.
"To scare you."
"And it worked!" Donal shouted, with a sudden strength born of panic.
"I'm scared! I'm scared for my daughters! Let them keep the money! Let them keep the routes! I don't care!"
He turned to Elara, grabbing her shoulders.
"We have to leave. Now. Tonight. We will leave everything. We will go south, to the fishing villages. We will beg if necessary. But we can't stay here."
"You wouldn't reach the city gate," Kael said coldly.
"Nikolas has eyes everywhere. If you try to run now, he will hunt you for sport."
"Then what do we do?" Martha sobbed.
"Wait for them to come back and kill us?"
Elara slowly got up.
She broke free from her father. She wiped her tears with the back of her hand, smearing her face with dust and soot. She smoothed her wrinkled dress with a dignity that seemed out of place amidst the debris.
"No," Elara said. Her voice was low, but it didn't tremble.
Everyone looked at her.
"We are not going to run away," she continued, looking Kael directly in the eyes.
"And we are not going to wait for them to kill us."
"Elara, daughter..." Donal began.
"I'm going to marry him," Elara said.
The silence that followed was heavier than the crash of the attack.
Nia, who had come out of her hiding place and approached trembling, let out a gasp.
"No! Sister, you can't! He's a monster!"
"He's a monster who wants a wife," Elara said, turning toward Nia and stroking her tear-stained cheek.
"And if I give him what he wants, he'll stop hurting us. He'll stop this."
She looked at Kael again. There was an accusation in her gaze. A silent accusation—'you promised to protect us. You brought this to our door.'
"The plan failed, Kael," Elara said.
"We stole the documents. We humiliated them. And look what happened. They almost killed my father. They threatened my sister. Your game is too dangerous for us."
Kael held her gaze. He didn't blink. He didn't apologize.
"The game is not over," Kael said.
"For you it's a game," Elara retorted bitterly.
"For us it is our life. And I'm not going to bet it anymore. I'm going to end this. I will accept the marriage. I will hand over the house, the routes, everything. In exchange for my family's safety."
"Do you think Daemon will give you safety?" Kael asked skeptically.
"Do you think once you are his wife he will treat you well?"
"No," Elara replied, and in that moment she seemed to age ten years.
"I know my life will be hell. I know he will hit me. I know he will use me."
She swallowed, holding back new tears that threatened to fall.
"But if I sacrifice myself... they will leave Nia alone. They will leave my parents alone. That will be my deal. Me for them."
Kael watched her.
He could have tried to convince her. He could have told her that Nikolas wouldn't keep his word, that once they had control they would continue to crush them. He could have argued logic and strategy.
But then, an idea crossed his mind. A dark, brilliant, and terrible idea.
He looked at Elara. He saw the suicidal determination in her eyes. He saw that she was no longer acting. She was willing to walk into the fire.
'The wedding.'
A wedding was a public event. A wedding gathered all of Arven's society. The Kladis. The partners. The witnesses.
And the Torrens.
If Elara agreed to marry... the wedding would happen. Soon. The Kladis would want to secure their prize before anything else went wrong.
'A stage,' Kael thought, feeling the gears of his mind turning at full speed. 'It is not a surrender. It is a stage. The perfect stage.'
Kael smiled. Not the cold smile from before, but a sympathetic, almost gentle smile. The falsest smile of all.
"You are right, Elara," Kael said.
"It is the bravest thing you can do."
Donal and Martha looked at him in surprise. They expected him to fight. They expected him to insist on his war.
"Are you... are you agreeing?" Nia asked, betrayed.
"It is her decision," Kael said, bowing his head toward Elara.
"And it is a noble decision. Saving your family at the cost of yourself. Very... heroic."
He moved closer to her.
"Go. Send the message to Nikolas. Tell them they won. Tell them the party opened your eyes, that the 'theft' was a mistake by some thieves who took advantage of the chaos, and that you just want peace. Tell them the wedding must be as soon as possible."
Elara looked at him with suspicion.
"Why are you supporting me now? Five minutes ago you wanted something else."
"Because a good boy knows when it's time to surrender," Kael lied fluently.
"If you marry, you buy time. You gain immediate security for your parents. And perhaps... perhaps we can negotiate better terms for the marriage contract now that you have the documents."
"What?"
Kael pulled the crumpled papers from his tunic. He had picked them up discreetly while Aldric fought.
"We still have this. They are not enough to destroy them legally today, but they are enough to scare them if they are used well. Use them as leverage. Tell them 'I marry, but if a hair on my family is touched, these papers appear in the public square'."
Elara took the papers. Her hands trembled.
"Do you think it will work?"
"I think Nikolas is greedy, but not stupid. He won't want a scandal before having total control. He will accept the deal."
Kael turned to Aldric.
"Help Donal lift the table. We have to clean up this mess."
As the family began to move, still stunned and aching, Kael went to the broken window. He looked out at the street.
Elara thought she was surrendering. She thought she was buying peace with her body.
Poor fool.
Kael did not see a surrender. He saw an opportunity.
A wedding was a concentration of targets. All their enemies would be in one place, drunk on victory, with their guard down, expecting to see the final humiliation of the Vosses.
It would be the perfect place for a public execution. Not of Elara. But of the reputation and power of the Kladis and Torren houses.
'Accept the wedding, Elara,' Kael thought, looking at the grey sky. 'It will be the final judgment.'
He turned toward the room.
"Nia," he called softly.
The girl looked at him with red eyes, full of disappointment.
"Come here. I need you to run an errand."
Nia approached, dragging her feet.
"What do you want? It doesn't matter anymore. Elara is going to get married."
"It matters more than ever," Kael whispered, crouching down to her height.
"Your sister thinks she surrendered. But you and I know the truth, don't we?"
Nia frowned.
"What truth?"
"That we are not going to let that happen," Kael smiled, and this time, the smile had teeth.
"The wedding is the trap, Nia. The biggest trap we have ever built."
The girl's eyes widened. Hope, that dangerous and brilliant thing, reignited in them.
"Really?"
"Really. But I need you to be brave. I need you to find someone for me. Someone who hates Daemon Kladis as much as you do."
"Who?"
"There are rumors," Kael said, recalling the tavern conversations Aldric had overheard while searching for information.
"Of a man in the lower district. Someone who lost his sister because of Daemon a year ago. They call him 'The Avenger,' although his real name is irrelevant. They say he seeks justice, but he doesn't have the means."
Kael put a gold coin in Nia's hand.
"Find him. Tell him I have the means. Tell him his day has come."
Nia squeezed the coin. She nodded, with a fierce determination replacing the fear.
"I will find him."
Kael stood up.
Elara was helping her mother sit down. Donal was trying to fix a broken chair. The house was destroyed, but the family was still standing, united by a daughter's sacrifice.
Kael observed the scene with detachment.
'Sacrifice is useful,' he thought.
The wedding would be held. Elara would walk down the aisle. And at the right moment, Kael would overturn the board.
"Aldric," Kael said.
The knight approached, wiping a blood stain from his cheek.
"What are you planning, Kael? I see that look."
"I am planning a party, Aldric," Kael replied. "An unforgettable party. I need you to talk to Gareth. Tell him the plan is still on, but the objective has changed."
"What is the objective now?"
Kael looked toward the Kladis mansion in the imaginary distance.
"The wedding. I want Gareth and his men ready. When the curtain falls, I want Arven to tremble."
Aldric sighed, but nodded.
He headed toward the stairs. He had to write some letters. He had to move some pieces. And he had to prepare to be the most dangerous guest at the wedding of the year.
Nikolas's punishment had been brutal. It had broken furniture and bones.
But Kael's punishment... Kael's punishment will break