Reivan had gotten very good at handling bad news.

He had received assassination threats over breakfast, watched nobles try to ruin him with words sharper than knives, and narrowly avoided being dragged into a civil war twice.

But even he needed a moment to process the latest disaster sitting across from him.

Because the Mercenary King of the Reapers was asking for a favor.

And that was never a good thing.

The man himself—Cassian Veyre, leader of the Reapers—looked exactly as Reivan had imagined. Broad-shouldered, effortlessly confident, and carrying the casual menace of someone who had survived far too many battles. He sat in Reivan’s office like he owned the place, legs crossed, one arm draped over the chair as if this was a meeting between old friends.

Which it absolutely was not.

Reivan gave him a flat look. “You want what now?”

Cassian smirked. “A favor.”

“You’ll have to be more specific,” Reivan said dryly. “Because I have a long list of people trying to drag me into their problems, and I need to know where you rank.”

Garm snorted from the corner of the room. “Oh, he’s near the top.”

Cassian ignored the remark and leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk. “It’s a simple job.”

“That’s what everyone says before they ask me to do something insane,” Reivan muttered.

Cassian chuckled. “Fine. It’s not simple. But it is important.”

Sylpkx, sitting lazily on the windowsill, raised an eyebrow. “Important for who?”

Cassian’s smirk didn’t falter. “For me. And if you’re as smart as people say, for you as well.”

Reivan sighed. “Alright. Let’s hear it.”

Cassian’s eyes gleamed with something sharp. “There’s a contract I need completed, but my hands are tied. If the Reapers take it, it’ll start a war we can’t afford. If you take it, well…” He spread his hands. “It’s just another day in your complicated life.”

Reivan narrowed his eyes. “You’re asking me to take a job that could trigger an international conflict.”

Cassian tilted his head. “Not necessarily.”

Stolen novel; please report.

“That means yes.”

Cassian’s smirk widened. “You’re catching on.”

Reivan leaned back, rubbing his temples. “Alright. Details.”

Cassian nodded. “There’s a noble from the Kingdom of Nivaris. High-ranking. Powerful. He’s been making moves that threaten certain… business arrangements.”

Reivan already didn’t like where this was going.

Cassian continued. “The client wants him gone. Cleanly, quietly. The problem is, if the Reapers do it, it’ll be seen as a declaration of war. But if someone else—say, an independent force—handles it…”

Reivan exhaled. “Then it’s just another assassination.”

Cassian nodded.

Sylpkx let out a low whistle. “You do know who you’re asking, right?”

Cassian’s grin didn’t waver. “Of course I do.” He turned back to Reivan. “You’re in a unique position. Not bound to the empire, not fully aligned with any one faction. That makes you useful.”

Reivan tapped his fingers against the desk. The logic was sound.

But that wasn’t the problem.

The problem was what saying yes meant.

Up until now, Reivan had avoided stepping too far into international matters. He had been playing a careful game, managing nobles, mercenaries, and trade.

But taking this contract? That changed everything.

It meant accepting that he was now a player in wars beyond the empire.

It meant choosing to be more than just a survivor.

Garm, watching him closely, spoke up. “You’re thinking about it.”

Reivan sighed. “Unfortunately, yes.”

Sylpkx studied him. “You realize what this means if you accept.”

“I do.”

Cassian watched him with quiet amusement. “And?”

Reivan let the silence stretch for a moment before he finally spoke.

“I’ll do it.”

Cassian’s grin widened—but before he could speak, Reivan held up a hand.

“But on my terms.”

The amusement in Cassian’s eyes sharpened. “Go on.”

Reivan leaned forward. “First, I choose how the job is done. If I take it, it’s my operation, my plan, my execution.”

Cassian nodded. “Reasonable.”

“Second,” Reivan continued, “this isn’t a favor. It’s an exchange. If I take this risk, I expect something in return.”

Cassian chuckled. “You’re already thinking ahead. I like that. What do you want?”

Reivan smiled. “Loyalty.”

Cassian’s smirk faltered for the first time.

Reivan continued. “I don’t mean blind obedience. I mean when things get difficult, when lines are drawn, I need to know the Reapers aren’t going to turn on me.”

Cassian was silent for a long moment. Then he let out a slow laugh. “You’re bold.”

“I have to be.”

Cassian nodded, considering. Then he extended a hand. “Fine. You have a deal.”

Reivan shook his hand.

And just like that, he had crossed another line.

This wasn’t just another job.

This was the beginning of something much bigger.

The moment Cassian left, Sylpkx groaned and flopped onto the couch. “You do realize you just signed up for a very complicated future.”

Reivan sighed. “I’m aware.”

Garm smirked. “At least it’ll be fun.”

Reivan gave him a tired look. “That is not the word I’d use.”

Sylpkx raised a hand. “For the record, I would’ve just killed Cassian and avoided this entire problem.”

“Yes, I’m sure that would’ve solved everything,” Reivan said dryly.

Sylpkx shrugged. “Would’ve been satisfying.”

Reivan wasn’t sure what frustrated him more. The fact that she was probably right, or the fact that he had just committed to a path with no way back.

Because now, he wasn’t just a thorn in the empire’s side.

Now, he was a factor in international war.

And that meant the real games were only just beginning.