Joseph's POV:
Daniel spoke, his voice heavy as stone:"According to the current investigation, each faction acted independently. Moreover, they even fought each other."
I folded my arms, sensing the smell of gunpowder and chaos still clinging to his cloak."Besides that artifact," I asked, "was anything else stolen?"
"No other losses have been detected."He lowered his voice. "Based on the traces, some factions came from the capital, some from the Prefectural Hall. Among them, some fought like household servants, others like trained death-killers, and even a few wandering rogues. The guards chased them to the outskirts… then they vanished like fish into deep water."
Daniel looked at me, frustration burning in his eyes:"Joseph, why would anyone need death soldiers just to steal a single artifact?"
I rubbed my temple lightly. My wolf instincts had been warning me for days, something dark was threading itself beneath the lands we ruled.
"They weren't after the artifact," I said quietly. "I fear they had another purpose. The Silver Fang pack's arrival this time… bodes ill."
I looked up at him:"You came this late just for that?"
"No."
The seriousness on Daniel's face deepened, a heavy mist settling over his shoulders.
"I came to tell you that after the envoy caravan left the lodge, I ordered another search of the scene… and they found something."
"What did they find?"
"A dagger."
He paused half a beat, then added: "And among the death soldiers left behind… one survived."
That piece of news made my spine straighten on instinct.
A surviving death soldier always the most dangerous leak point.
…
Vecna's POV:
"A dagger. And among the death soldiers left at the scene, one was found alive."
I jolted upright, my heart dropping like I'd missed a step on an invisible staircase."What did you say?" I stared at Karen; the wolf in me wanted to snarl, but I forced my voice steady: "What did the dagger look like?"
Karen opened her mouth to describe it, then quickly changed her mind.She pulled out a sheet of paper and a pen, her movements crisp enough that the scratch of ink alone told me she'd trained for this.The pen glided across the page, swift, decisive.Within moments, the dagger's likeness appeared as clearly as if it were lying on the table.
I took the sketch.The instant my eyes landed on it, a cold current ran down my spine, not from winter, but instinct, the same instinct that kept me alive on the streets for three years.
A short blade, about five inches.Curved like a worn crescent moon, dull, not sharp.Not made for killing, not the kind of weapon looters carry.
A weed-cutting knife, the cheap kind worn by household servants while gardening, never something used by trained killers.
I looked at it for a long beat. The skin on my hands tightened, my nose stung faintly as the phantom smell of mud and old blood resurfaced from memory.I remembered too clearly the wounds left by assassins, the whistle of a real death-soldier's blade through the air.
Three years in the underworld taught me one rule that never fails:
Assassins do not use this.Death soldiers, even less.
Which means… something was very, very wrong.
I spoke softly, though inside, thoughts circled like winter winds:
"A blade like this belongs only to household servants… or cheap street riffraff. None of the people I hired use anything like this. That leaves only one possibility: servants from some noble household."
I stared at the sketched blade, as if the ink itself might reveal the mastermind.
"They clearly weren't prepared," I said. "Didn't dare use real weapons, so they bought cheap knives from the market to disguise themselves."
A stupid mistake… but a deadly clue.
"If Punishment takes this dagger around to the smithies," I sighed, "they'll trace it sooner or later."
Silver Fang pack and Marblewick Haven have been mortal enemies for generations. I know I've seen more Haven generals' bodies torn apart by wolves of Silver Fang blood than I can count.
"In this capital," I said, "there aren't many households bold enough to send their servants to rob the envoy caravan of the Silver Fang pack."
I sifted through possibilities. The more I thought, the darker my expression became.
"We have to cut this trail off immediately."
Karen asked quietly:"And that survivor… what do we do about him?"
"He's not one of ours, right?"
"No. A death soldier."
"Then leave him." I said bluntly. "A death soldier might not even know who ordered the attack. The real key… is the dagger."
She nodded. "Tomorrow I'll find an excuse to go out and scout things."
We discussed several more rounds to make sure no detail was overlooked.Only when all escape routes and contingencies were settled did the two of us feel at ease enough to head to bed.
But I knew full well, tonight, even with my eyes closed, sleep would not come easily.
The scent of trouble had already seeped into every corner of the Anderson estate, like smoke creeping through window cracks.And my instincts, those of a wolf surviving among humans told me this was only the prelude.
Luckily, Joseph wasn't coming back to the rear courtyard tonight.I didn't expect him to anyway; ever since our three wedding nights were over, his study seemed far more appealing to him than his marital bedroom.
Karen slept beside me, curled under the blankets like a small cat.She was nearly asleep when she suddenly murmured, her voice airy like the wind outside:
"Oh right, miss… when I broke into the Deputy Minister of Culture's office… I stumbled upon a very… blinding sight."
I half-opened my eyes. "What sight?"
"That Deputy Minister…" She hesitated. "Was having an affair with the tea-serving maid. Right there in his office."
My drowsiness evaporated like ash in a gust of wind.
"You didn't see wrong?" I shot upright, heart thudding a wolf's instinct when sensing fresh trouble.
Daniel… isn't he Joseph's brother-in-law?A man with that prim, respectable façade and he's sneaking around in his office?Does Joseph's eldest sister even know?
Karen mumbled, half-asleep:"How could I mistake it… If they weren't in such a rush, I wouldn't have had the chance to search the office at all…"
I listened, feeling exasperation stack upon exasperation.Yet another problem with no place to stash it.
If I told my mother-in-law, I'd expose the fact that I sent Karen to spy on the Richart household.If I stayed silent… my conscience would itch.
I tossed and turned all night.
…
That day, the sun was warm, a rare winter gift.Lady Lauren Anderson, the matriarch, had gone to the council hall early to handle estate matters.Barely half an hour had passed when several sisters-in-law arrived, bringing their daughters-in-law and young ladies, bustling into the hall:
"Eldest Sister, you sit here all day like a Guardian Angel watching over the household, but I fear you don't know down in the kitchen it's chaos!Do you know? Your eldest son's wife, Joseph's wife, has been in the kitchen three days now, and for three days she only eats roast goose, touches no chores whatsoever, eats then sleeps, sleeps then eats, treating the kitchen like her personal garden!"
Lady Lauren Anderson's temple twitched.She had already heard the rumor that morning. Though annoyed her daughter-in-law lacked propriety, she still had to maintain dignity before the family:
"She is Mrs. Vecna of this estate. Is the kitchen not her home?The lands were built by her husband, if she eats a roast goose in her own kitchen, is that a crime against heaven?"