The chamber smelled of old smoke and polished steel, a scent the Veins had refined over decades of whispered deals. Shadows clung to corners, stretching toward flickering lights as if trying to eavesdrop themselves. I perched in a hidden alcove, high above the long table where the lieutenants gathered.
All three factions Carrow, Lyric, and Krain sat with rigid precision. Postures carved from confidence or fear; weapons casually brushed against metal legs. Each movement was a statement, a bluff, a confession. I cataloged it all.
soft shuffle… clink… low murmur…
Lyric tapped the table once, eyes sliding to Krain, then Carrow. Carrow didn't flinch, though his jaw tightened imperceptibly. Krain fiddled with a dagger, spinning it lazily, almost lazily, but I noticed the tension in the thumb. Micro-reactions, fingerprints of intent.
I allowed myself a dry smirk. "All this theater for a few meters of concrete. Adorable."
The first discussion thread began territory disputes, supply routes, the usual posturing. I noted who interrupted whom, who avoided eye contact, who exhaled a fraction too late. Every flicker of irritation, every calculated pause was a breadcrumb. And I was hungry.
soft metallic scrape… hum…
From my vantage, I slipped a small ledger into the wrong stack, misaligned just enough that anyone curious would see it but misread it. Little seeds of doubt, tiny fractures in already fragile alliances. Later, Carrow or Lyric would mention it, and paranoia would bloom like mold on damp metal.
I traced their hands on the table, fingers grazing the edge of maps. Each subtle shift, a tell. Krain's elbow pressed against his thigh when he wasn't sure of Lyric's loyalty. Carrow's foot tapped to a rhythm he hoped no one noticed. I filed it away, pattern by pattern.
faint tap… whispered breath… low hum…
I could see the room bending to my presence even though I was unseen. Every glance toward the alcove I occupied, every suspicion that grazed their minds, was another notch in the board I was building.
I exhaled slowly, letting the scene imprint itself. Calculated chaos, ready to be harvested. And then I slipped out, leaving only my shadow behind, stretched across the wall like a warning no one could read.
"Squabble all you want," I murmured to the empty corridors of the Veins. "The board's mine to watch when it collapses."