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Reivan had received many letters since arriving in the imperial capital.

Some were thinly veiled threats. Some were bribes disguised as alliances. Some were invitations dipped in poison—literally.

But this letter?

This one was different.

The parchment was cheap, almost rough. The ink was hurried, smudged in places. It bore no noble seal, no signature—just a few rushed words.

"They have set the wheels in motion.Beware the dagger under the moon."

It had been delivered in secret. No messenger had arrived. No guards had intercepted it.

The letter had simply been found on his desk.

Which meant whoever sent it had gotten past his defenses.

And that?

That was not comforting.

There was only one type of group that both wanted him dead and wanted to test him at the same time.

The Holy Kingdom of Saerun.

Reivan exhaled slowly, turning the letter over in his fingers.

The Holy Kingdom was a patient, calculating force. They didn’t move rashly. If they were acting now, it meant they had already predicted several possible outcomes.

They had probably funded Count Estienne’s assassination attempt, but instead of simply letting it play out, they had sent this warning to see how he would react.

If he ran or hid?They would mark him as weak. A minor player.

If he responded too aggressively?They would frame him as a dangerous warmonger.

It was a test. A political move to measure his value.

Reivan sighed.

He hated being tested.

Sylpkx, sitting across from him, had read the letter twice.

Then, she simply shrugged. "I could start biting people until we find out who sent it."

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Reivan gave her a flat look. "That’s not how investigations work."

Garm, standing by the door, crossed his arms. "So what’s the plan? Are we pretending this isn’t happening, or do I get to break some skulls?"

Reivan tapped the table, thinking. "We don’t react directly. If we act like we know, they’ll change the plan."

Sylpkx grinned. "So we walk into the trap."

Reivan nodded. "But on our terms."

The attack came at midnight.

Reivan had anticipated poison—so he didn’t eat or drink anything after sunset.

He had expected hired killers—so Garm’s men had reinforced the estate’s defenses.

But the assassins still found a way in.

It was silent. Efficient.

The first sign of trouble was the sharp scent of alchemical smoke seeping through the windows.

Then—

A knife buried itself in the wall next to Reivan’s chair.

Reivan turned, calm despite the very clear murder attempt.

A hooded figure stood in the dim light, a curved blade glinting in their hand.

"How dramatic," Reivan muttered. "You know, most people just say hello."

The assassin lunged.

And then, the ceiling collapsed.

The assassin barely had time to react before a giant of a man dropped through the rafters like an angry bear.

Garm.

In full armor.

With a steel gauntlet the size of a dinner plate.

The assassin, to their credit, dodged at the last second.

They still got hit hard enough to crash through a bookshelf.

Garm dusted off his hands, looking incredibly pleased with himself.

"See?" he said. "Told you reinforcing the beams was a bad idea."

Reivan sighed. "That’s not what I—never mind. Just don’t let them escape."

The fight didn’t last long.

The assassin was fast, but Garm was relentless. Every time they tried to maneuver, Sylpkx cut off their retreat.

Eventually, the assassin made a fatal mistake.

They tried to escape through the window.

Sylpkx caught them midair with a tail whip that sent them crashing into a table.

The assassin groaned.

Reivan calmly walked over, crouching beside them. "Now that we’ve gotten past the awkward introductions, shall we talk?"

The assassin didn’t break immediately.

They were trained, disciplined. Not just some hired thug.

Which meant they weren’t working for Estienne directly.

Reivan had already suspected it, but this confirmed it.

Count Estienne had wanted him dead.

But someone else had given the actual orders.

Someone who wasn’t afraid to lose an asset just to test him.

And that led to only one answer.

The Holy Kingdom had used Estienne as a puppet.

This wasn’t just an assassination attempt.

It was a power move.

Reivan leaned back, thinking.

They had tested him.

Which meant he needed to respond.

Not with brute force. Not with immediate retaliation.

No.

He needed to make them regret testing him at all.

And for that—

He would play the long game.

By dawn, Reivan had already drafted several letters.

* One was sent to Count Estienne, subtly informing him that his plot had failed.

* One was sent to the empire’s intelligence network, ensuring that whispers of Holy Kingdom involvement started spreading.

* One was sent to the Holy Kingdom itself—short, polite, and unreadable.

It simply said:

"I understand the game you are playing. I wonder if you understand mine."

No threats. No direct accusations.

Just enough to make them wonder.

And that?

That was the first step in turning the game against them.