Aaron watched them go, then turned his gaze back to the window. The city lay before him, a web of power and intrigue. He had just plunged his knife into its heart and twisted. He hadn't gotten his mountain of gold yet, but he had secured the shovel to start digging. He had taken their own weapon, their own corruption, and turned it against them. They would pay for their arrogance. They would pay for everything.
And they would fund his ascension, one stolen coin at a time.
A week later, a new player entered the game. A sorceress named Seraphina requested an audience. Aaron was in the throne room, reviewing the initial reports from his newly formed Ministry of Imperial Works. The gold was already flowing, diverted from the grasping hands of the nobility and into his coffers. It was a beautiful sight. His long-suffering butler, Marcus, entered the chamber, his posture still rigid with fear.
"Your Grace," Marcus announced, his voice barely a whisper. "A Lady Seraphina is here to see you. She claims to represent the Silver Circle."
"The Silver Circle," Aaron mused aloud. Reynolds' personal spies. How predictable. "Send her in, Marcus."
She was stunning. That was the first thing Aaron noted. She moved with a liquid grace, wrapped in dark silks that clung to every curve. Her lips were painted a deep, dangerous crimson. Her smile was a weapon, and she aimed it directly at him. Aaron felt the faint thrum of magic around her, a perfume of power mixed with nightshade and rose that filled the air as she approached.
"Regent Aaron," she began, her voice like honeyed wine. She performed a flawless curtsy, a gesture of respect that felt more like a challenge. "I come on behalf of Lord Reynolds, with an offer of cooperation."
Aaron gestured to the empty space before the regent's seat. "Speak freely, Lady Seraphina." He remained seated, forcing her to look up at him. A small, but important, assertion of dominance.
She didn't seem to mind. Her smile widened. "We have discovered a ruin from the First Age, not far from the capital. It is overflowing with raw magical energy, the kind not seen for centuries."
Her eyes, the color of twilight, held his. "The wards are ancient and powerful. Too strong for one person to break alone," she purred, taking a deliberate step closer. The movement caused the silk of her dress to shift, outlining the shape of her thigh.
"But together… imagine the power we could claim. The artifacts. The lost knowledge." She let the words hang in the air, heavy with promise.
It was the oldest trick in the book. A lure into an ambush. Aaron could almost taste the killing intent hidden beneath her seductive mask. It was faint, expertly concealed, but to him, it was as loud as a scream. He decided to play along. The arrogant, power-hungry regent she expected to meet.
"A tempting offer, Lady Seraphina," he said, letting his eyes drift slowly down her form. He let a hint of avarice show in his expression. "Very tempting indeed."
He saw a flash of triumph in her eyes before she masked it. She thought he was hooked.
"But my schedule is… demanding," Aaron continued, leaning back in his throne with feigned nonchalance. "This new Ministry requires my full attention. The empire does not run itself."
Her smile tightened for a fraction of a second. Frustration. He had seen it. She had expected him to leap at the chance.
"Of course, Your Grace," she recovered smoothly. "A ruler's duties are paramount. But the ruin will not wait forever. The magical alignments that suppress the wards are temporary."
She gave him a slow, promising smile and took a step back. "I will leave you to your considerations. I shall remain in the city. Send for me when you have made your decision."
She turned and walked away, her hips swaying with practiced allure. Aaron watched her go, a predator watching its prey walk confidently into a cage it did not see.
He waited until the great doors of the throne room closed behind her. Then he closed his eyes.
He didn't need complex scrying spells. He had assets everywhere. During his purges, he had collected hundreds of souls. One of them, a minor courtier executed for treason, had been a low-level informant for the Silver Circle. Aaron had kept the soul-fragment, a tether of psychic residue, for just such an occasion. He reached out with his mind, following the faint connection to the others in its network.
He found her almost instantly. Seraphina had gone straight to a private suite in a lavish inn. And she was not alone.
Through the dead man's senses, Aaron listened.
"He is arrogant, but cautious," Seraphina was saying. Her voice had lost its honeyed tone; it was now sharp and clinical. "He wants the power, I could see it. But he's hesitating."
Another voice laughed, a familiar, wheezing sound. Lord Valerius. The broken man from his throne room a week ago. So the dog had found a new master. Or perhaps, this was his master all along.
"He is a fool," Valerius sneered, his voice filled with venom. "His newfound power has made him blind. He thinks he outsmarted me with his Ministry. Let him play with his new toy."
"He suspects nothing of our true plan?" Valerius asked.
"Nothing," Seraphina confirmed. "He thinks it's a simple trap to kill him. He doesn't realize we want him alive. Lord Reynolds wants the secrets of his power. His 'Eternal Throne'."
Valerius laughed again. "He will come. The lure of First Age magic is too great for any mage to resist. He will walk into our arms. And when he does, we will take everything."
Aaron let the connection fade, the voices disappearing into silence. He opened his eyes, a slow smile spreading across his face. It was not a smile of amusement. It was the cold, thin smile of a hunter who had just learned the exact location of his quarry's den.
They were so beautifully, suicidally confident. They thought he would come to their ruin. They thought they were setting the trap. How little they understood. The real trap was already closing around them.