The days in Arven passed with a sticky, frustrating slowness, like honey spilled on a dirty table.
The Voss household, which Kael had converted into his makeshift headquarters, felt more like a prison than a home. The curtains remained closed most of the day. Street noises made Martha jump. Donal walked the hallways with slumped shoulders, carrying the weight of a ruin that seemed inevitable.
Kael was sitting in Donal's study, surrounded by open ledgers and scrolls of trade routes. Dust motes floated in the rays of light that managed to sneak through the window cracks.
'Red numbers. Debts. Compound interest designed to be unpayable. Blocked routes. Canceled contracts.'
It was a financial autopsy. The Voss business wasn't dying; it was dead and decomposing. The Torrens and the Kladis had done a meticulous job. They hadn't left a single artery uncut.
"It's useless," said Donal, sitting across from him, his head in his hands.
"I've checked those numbers a thousand times. There's no money. No inventory. Even if we had free routes, we have nothing to transport."
Kael closed the ledger with a dry thud that made the dust dance.
"Money is a renewable resource, Donal. Reputation, not so much. But fear... fear is the most valuable currency of all."
"No one will lend to us," Donal insisted.
"No one will sell to us on credit. The Torrens have poisoned the well."
"Then let's stop trying to drink from the well," Kael said, standing up.
"Let's go see Corpio."
Donal lifted his head, surprised.
"Corpio? He's a coward. He used to be my partner, but he cut ties six months ago when Nikolas Kladis paid him a visit."
"Exactly," Kael adjusted his tunic.
"A coward is useful because he is predictable. We'll see if his fear of the Torrens is greater than his greed. Or if I can offer him a new fear."
The meeting was a calculated disaster.
Merchant Corpio's warehouse smelled of cheap spices and damp wood. Corpio, an obese man with a face that looked like raw dough, received them in a back office, sweating profusely despite the cool weather.
Aldric stood by the door, his massive, silent presence filling the space. Kael sat down across the desk, letting Donal make the introduction.
"Corpio, for old times' sake," Donal pleaded, his voice tinged with a desperation that Kael found pathetic but necessary.
"I just need a small cargo on credit. I have a buyer on the coast. If I can move this, I'll be able to pay you back with interest."
Corpio wiped his forehead with a dirty handkerchief. His eyes moved nervously from Donal to Aldric, and then to the boy who observed them with an unsettling intensity.
"Donal, please... you know I can't," Corpio whispered, as if the walls had ears.
"Jerek Torren was here last week. He went through my books. If he sees a single transaction with you... he'll burn my warehouse down. With me inside."
"Jerek Torren is a thug," Kael intervened. His voice was soft, childish, but it cut through the atmosphere of panic like a cold knife.
Garris looked at him, blinking.
"And who are you, boy?"
"Someone who is disappointed," Kael replied.
"I thought Arven's merchants had pride."
Garris turned red, a mixture of shame and anger.
"You don't know anything! The Torrens control the council. They control the guard. They control the docks. If you move against them, they crush you. Kladis is their attack dog."
He leaned over the desk, his fear transforming into defensive aggression.
"Leave, Donal. And take your... nephew. I'm not sinking with your ship. Your daughter is already doomed to marry Daemon. Accept it and save what you can of your own skin."
Kael observed the man. He saw the tremor in his hands, the sweat on his upper lip. There was no courage there. No ambition that could be stoked. The fear of the Torrens was absolute, a total paralysis.
'It's no use,' Kael concluded. 'I can't build an alliance on rotten foundations.'
Kael stood up.
"Let's go, Donal."
"But..."
"I said we're leaving."
Kael walked towards the door. As he passed Aldric, he murmured
"This man is dead weight."
They walked out onto the bustling street. Donal shuffled his feet, defeated once more.
"I told you," the merchant muttered.
"They're terrified. All of them. We have no allies."
"You're right," Kael admitted, stopping at a corner to observe the flow of people.
"I was wrong to look for strength outside. No one is going to help us. The Torrens have built a perfect cage."
He looked towards the upper part of the city, where the mansions of the wealthy towered over the rest.
'If you can't break the cage from the outside... you have to kill the jailer from the inside.'
"Aldric," Kael said.
"Take Donal home. I have a meeting."
Aldric frowned.
"Alone? No."
"I'm not going far. And I need discretion that your size doesn't allow. Besides, someone has to make sure Donal doesn't do anything stupid driven by despair."
Aldric looked at Donal, then at Kael. He didn't like it, but he understood the logic. Kael could go unnoticed. Aldric was a beacon of potential violence.
"One hour," the knight grumbled.
"If you're not in the house in one hour, I'll come out looking for you and break a lot of things."
"Deal."
Kael waited for them to move away before turning towards the poorest district of Arven. He had an appointment with his own investment.
The Blind Man Tavern was an infected hole where the sunlight went to die. Kael entered, his small figure wrapped in a simple cloak, and headed straight for the back table.
Gareth was there.
The Master of Aether, the mercenary who had beheaded Ferris at the Rusted Anchor, was sitting in front of an untouched tankard of beer. He wore no visible armor, but the way he was sitting, with his back against the wall and his eyes controlling every entrance, screamed danger.
When Kael sat down across from him, Gareth smiled. A shark's smile.
"Little Lord Drayvar. You're on time."
"How is your new environment?"
"Arven is... interesting," Gareth spun the tankard.
"Less discipline than in the North, more corruption. I like it. My men have infiltrated the docks and the slums. No one notices a few more mercenaries in a city full of them."
"And the Torrens?"
"Arrogant," Gareth spat the word.
"They have security, yes. Guards in their mansion, patrols in their warehouses. But they're guards paid to intimidate peasants, not to fight wars. They've grown lazy. They believe their name is shield enough."
Kael nodded.
"That's going to change. Soon."
"Do you have a job for me?" Gareth's eyes shone with predatory anticipation.
"My men are getting bored. And a bored mercenary is a dangerous mercenary to his own master."
"Patience. The strike must be precise." Kael leaned forward.
"I need you to prepare something. Not a direct attack. Not yet. I need chaos. I need something to burn when I give the signal. Something big. Something that forces the Torrens to look the other way while I stick the knife in their back."
Gareth let out a low laugh.
"Fires. Distractions. I like it. When?"
"Soon. Keep your men ready and sober. When the time comes, the window of opportunity will be small."
Kael stood up.
"Ah, and Gareth..."
The mercenary raised an eyebrow.
"Don't change sides."
"I have your gold, boy," Gareth said seriously.
"And I have your promise of something bigger. I'm not stupid. The Torrens are the past. You are the future. I bet on the future."
"Good. Stand by."
Kael left the tavern. The afternoon sun hit his face, but it didn't warm the ice inside him. He had the muscle. He had the will.
But he was missing the key.
He needed to get into the mind of the beast. He needed proof. Documents. Papers that would turn suspicion into legal weapons.
And for that, he needed to enter Nikolas Kladis's house.
When he returned to the Voss residence, the atmosphere was funereal. Donal was locked in his study. Martha was crying silently in the kitchen.
Kael went upstairs towards the room he shared with Aldric, but stopped when he saw Nia's door ajar.
The girl was sitting on the floor, surrounded by papers. She was drawing.
Kael approached silently. Nia looked up, her large, dark eyes fixing on him. There was no fear in her, Kael noted. There was curiosity. And a sharp intelligence that her older sister sometimes masked with panic.
"What are you doing?" Kael asked.
"A map," Nia said, pointing to the paper.
Kael went in and looked. It was a crude but detailed drawing of a large house. Rooms, hallways, gardens.
"What house is this?"
"The Kladis mansion," Nia replied naturally.
Kael felt a jolt of genuine interest.
"How do you know the Kladis mansion?"
"Before..." Nia lowered her gaze, tracing a line with her finger.
"Before everything went bad, before the debts... my father and Nikolas Kladis were partners. Or something like that. We went to parties there. Daemon... he ignored me, thank the gods. But I used to play hide-and-seek with the servants' children."
She looked up, her eyes shining with childish pride.
"I know where the cats hide. I know where the servants talk in secret. And I know where the forbidden room is."
Kael crouched down next to her, ignoring formality.
"The forbidden room?"
"Nikolas's study," Nia whispered, as if the usurer could hear her.
"On the second floor. East wing. It has an oak door with lion heads. No one can go in there. Not even Daemon. Once, a servant went in to clean without permission and Nikolas broke his hand with his shoe."
'Perfect,' Kael thought.
"Nia," Kael said, his voice soft, conspiratorial.
"Do you remember how to get there without being seen?"
"Sure. There's a service staircase behind the pantry. The guards watch the main staircase, but the service one... only the old cook uses it."
Kael looked at the drawing. It was the key. The key he had been looking for.
"You are brilliant, Nia," Kael said, and for the first time, the praise was sincere.
Nia smiled, radiant.
"Can I help? Are we going to fight the bad guys?"
"We're going to do something better," Kael said, his mind weaving the plan at a dizzying speed.
"We're going to steal from them."
That night, Kael called a meeting in the living room.
Everyone was there: Donal, Martha, Elara, Nia, and Aldric. The atmosphere was tense. Kael placed Nia's drawing on the center table, smoothing it out carefully.
"Listen closely," Kael began, his voice dominating the room.
"There are no allies outside. There are no loans. There is no external salvation. If we want to survive, we have to destroy the alliance between Torren and Kladis from within."
He pointed to the map.
"This is our objective. The Kladis mansion. Specifically, Nikolas's study."
"You want to... break in and steal?" Donal asked, horrified.
"That's crazy! Nikolas has guards, dogs..."
"And he has secrets," Kael cut in.
"Secrets written on paper. Contracts with Torren. Evidence of extortion. Letters. If we get those documents, we not only prove the conspiracy, but we can blackmail them, expose them, or destroy them legally."
"It's impossible to get in," Elara said, hugging herself.
"Security has increased since... since the incident."
"We won't enter by force," Kael said, a cold smile curving his lips.
"We will enter through the front door. Guests."
Everyone looked at him confused.
"Guests?" Martha repeated.
"But... they hate us. They are hunting us."
"In a few days," Kael said,
"The Kladis are hosting an annual party. A gala. It's a tradition to show off their wealth and power. They invite all the important merchants, minor nobles, aspirants... everyone goes to kiss Nikolas's ring."
He looked at Elara.
"And you, Elara, will be the guest of honor."
Elara paled mortally.
"Me? You want me to go... to hand myself over to Daemon?"
"Not hand yourself over," Kael corrected.
"Act. I need you to send a message tomorrow. Tell them you've given up. That you accept the marriage. That you are ready to be the obedient wife they want. Ask for forgiveness. Plead. Feed their ego."
"I can't!" Elara stood up, trembling.
"I can't face that monster again! He'll touch me, he'll...!"
"You have to!" Kael slammed his hand on the table, not with force, but with authority.
"If you don't do it, you'll lose this house. You'll lose your family. You'll lose Nia."
Elara looked at her little sister. Nia looked back at her with wide, frightened but confident eyes.
"Elara... Kael says it's a plan. A trick."
Kael softened his tone, becoming the calm strategist.
"Listen, Elara. You won't be alone. The party is our cover. While everyone is busy celebrating your 'surrender' and the Kladis's victory, security will be relaxed inside. They'll be drunk on wine and triumph."
He pointed to Aldric.
"Aldric will enter as part of your escort 'to deliver the bride.' A gesture of submission from your father."
Then he pointed to himself.
"And I will enter as part of the service. One more servant boy, invisible, carrying trays."
He looked at Nia.
"And you, Nia... you are my guide. You've told me where everything is. We will go over that map until I can walk it with my eyes closed."
"And me?" Donal asked, his voice barely a whisper.
"You and your wife will stay here," Kael said.
"Preparing the escape in case everything goes wrong. But if it goes right... if it goes right, Elara won't have to marry anyone. And the Kladis will be finished."
Elara slowly sat down again. She looked at her hands, which trembled in her lap. The idea of returning to the wolf's mouth, of smiling at Daemon, of pretending... it made her nauseous.
But then she thought of the alternative. Of passively waiting for ruin. Of Torren's men coming to burn their house.
She looked up. There was fire in her eyes. A fire born of terror and rage.
"Do you promise me you won't let him touch me?" she asked, her voice firm for the first time.
"Do you promise me Aldric will be there if he tries... anything?"
Kael nodded solemnly.
"I give you my word as a Drayvar. Aldric will be your shadow. If Daemon crosses the line early, Aldric will cut off his hand."
Aldric nodded, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword.
"No one will touch you, girl. You have my oath."
Elara took a deep breath.
"Alright. I'll do it. I'll put on the dress. I'll smile."
"Good," Kael said.
He stood up and walked towards the window, looking out at the dark city where the Kladis mansion waited, full of gold and secrets.
"The performance starts tomorrow," Kael said without looking back.
"Prepare your masks. Because we are going to give them the show of their lives."
Nia approached Kael and gently tugged his sleeve.
"Kael?"
"Yes?"
"What if we get caught?"
Kael looked at her. There was no doubt in his gray eyes.
"Then, Nia, we will burn the mansion down with them inside. But I prefer the documents."
The girl smiled, a fierce smile that mirrored Kael's.
"Me too."
The plan was in motion. The infiltration, the risk, the lie. Everything hung by a thread: Elara's ability to fake her own defeat.
Kael knew it was a risky bet. But safe bets didn't overthrow powers. And he hadn't come to Arven to play it safe.
He had come to win.