As Linus exited the library, he wandered through the bustling streets of Thornfield, his mind still swirling with thoughts of the day's discoveries. The distant sound of raised voices caught his attention, drawing him toward the town square. As he approached, he found a large crowd gathered, their faces etched with frustration and anger. The air was thick with tension, the protest swelling with each passing moment.

A chorus of angry voices filled the square, their cries rising like a storm gathering strength. A miner, his face streaked with soot, hurled his helmet to the ground.

"We work ourselves to the bone, and for what? So she can take what little we have left?" he shouted, veins bulging in his neck.

A woman clutching a frail child pressed forward. "We can’t even afford medicine!" she wailed. "How are we supposed to survive?"

The heat of bodies pressed together made the air thick, and the scent of sweat and unwashed desperation clung to the streets. Nearby, a man jabbed a shaking finger toward the town hall. "Tax increases! The mines are collapsing! It's all because of her!"

The outrage swelled, fists rising like a sea of thorns, voices merging into an unrelenting wave of fury. A stone flew, shattering against the side of a building. Linus stood at the edge of the chaos, watching as tension pulsed through the crowd like an approaching tempest.

Amidst the sea of angry faces, he spotted a familiar one—Roderick. The man lingered near the fountain, arms crossed, his countenance calm despite the storm around him.

Their eyes met.

Roderick’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smile, a silent acknowledgment. He dipped his chin in a subtle nod. Linus allowed the barest hint of a smirk to flicker across his lips—an unspoken understanding passing between them.

Just as quickly, Linus turned his attention back to the scene, watching and waiting. This was going precisely as planned.

Let’s see how Mara handles this, he mused, his curiosity piqued by the unfolding drama. As the crowd's fury intensified, Linus slipped into a nearby alley, watching from the shadows. He could sense the energy building, the anger feeding off itself, threatening to spiral out of control.

With a satisfied smirk, he thought, This is going as planned. Leaning back against the cool stone wall, he continued to observe. Every shout, every raised fist, was a step closer to the chaos he intended to orchestrate. Any day now, he thought, his mind already plotting the next move.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm, golden hue over Thornfield, Linus decided it was time to leave. He navigated his way through the crowd, slipping away unnoticed, the angry shouts and chants of the protest gradually fading behind him. He headed toward the drama studio, moving with purpose as the streets grew quieter.

He kept to the shadows, his steps hushed, as he approached the studio. The building loomed ahead, its exterior bathed in the last rays of sunlight. Linus circled the perimeter, careful to avoid detection.

Finding a discreet corner where he was confident he wouldn't be observed, he focused. The darkness obeyed.

From the shifting void, a shape unfurled—first, an indistinct mass, then wings, sleek and obsidian. The bird materialized fully, its form flickering before solidifying. Its eyes, two orbs glinting with intelligence, fixed upon him.

"Watch the drama studio," Linus thought.

The shadow bird tilted its head in understanding before taking flight, dissolving into the night as though it had never existed.

Linus moved around the studio, repeating the process. From various concealed corners, he summoned more shadow birds, each instructed to watch different vantage points of the building. The birds, with their keen eyes and quiet presence, would provide him with the information he needed. As the last bird took off, Linus stepped back, satisfied. The studio was now under watch, and he could count on his shadow creatures to keep a vigilant eye on everything that transpired near here.

Satisfied with his work, Linus turned and returned to his manor. The streets were nearly empty now, the town slowly settling into the quiet of the evening. As he walked, he couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation. The shadow birds would keep a vigilant watch over the drama studio, and he was confident that soon enough, they would uncover whatever secrets lay hidden within its walls.

Reaching his manor, Linus entered quietly, the familiar surroundings providing comfort and control. Sitting down at his desk, he allowed himself a moment to relax. The day's events had gone well, and he felt a growing confidence that his plans were advancing smoothly, each piece falling into place.

He leaned back in his chair, savoring the tranquility, when the door to his study swung open without a knock. Mara stepped in, her face as impassive as ever. Yet Linus could sense the turmoil beneath her composed exterior.

"Mara," Linus greeted her, straightening in his chair. "What brings you here at this hour?"

"General Curtis Underwood is set to arrive in Thornfield," she stated plainly, her voice steady, betraying none of the emotions Linus knew she must be feeling.

Linus’s eyes narrowed slightly, his mind immediately alert. He knew that name well, and it carried a heavy weight. General Curtis Underwood was a formidable figure in the kingdom whose reputation had been forged through years of strategic brilliance and ruthless efficiency. He had led numerous successful campaigns, expanding the kingdom’s territories and solidifying its power. Stories of his cunning on the battlefield were legendary, and his name alone commanded respect and fear among soldiers and enemies alike.

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

Linus’s fingers stilled against the polished wood of his desk. His eyes, sharp as daggers, flicked up to Mara.

Underwood.

The name alone carried weight—a name that had shaped battlefields, crushed rebellions, and spilled rivers of blood. A name spoken in hushed, reverent tones by soldiers who feared him and nobles who sought his favor. However, to Linus, the most critical detail was Underwood's unwavering loyalty to Mara's eldest brother, Prince Alexander. The general had been instrumental in quelling rebellions and ensuring Alexander’s claim to the throne remained uncontested. His strategic acumen and willingness to do whatever was necessary to achieve victory made him indispensable to the prince.

Linus leaned back, the leather of his chair groaning beneath him. "Underwood," he repeated.

Mara’s expression didn’t waver, but Linus saw the flicker of something in her eyes—something raw, something old.

He knew why.

Underwood wasn’t just another ruthless commander. He was the man who had driven a dagger into her mother’s chest, who had shattered whatever childhood illusions she might have once had.

"How do you know?" he asked calmly.

"The Tradewood spies sent word," she replied sharply. "There have also been movements of the Sorenputhra army, shifting troops and supplies near the borders. It’s likely connected, but the true reason remains unclear." She paused, her voice growing colder. "But I know one thing—Underwood’s presence here is no coincidence. If he’s in Thornfield, it’s not for a social visit."

Linus’s mind whirled, piecing together the implications of what she was saying. The convergence of these elements—the Sorenputhra movements and the arrival of Prince Alexander’s most trusted general—was troubling. It hinted at a larger game being played that Linus was eager to understand and, if possible, manipulate to his own ends.

He studied Mara’s face, searching for clues to her own plans. "And what do you intend to do about all this?" he asked, watching her closely.

Mara didn’t hesitate. Her usually composed and guarded eyes burned with a fierce, dangerous light. She stepped closer, leaning slightly over his desk, and her tone dropped to a low, cold whisper that sent a chill through the room. "Help me kill him," she said, her voice unyielding and filled with a dark, resolute certainty.

Linus's laugh cut through the room's quiet, sharp and mocking. "He has an army, Mara. We barely have twenty to thirty soldiers. That’s all your family was willing to spare. I think you’re forgetting your place. Yes, you carry King Aldric’s blood, but compared to Curtis, you’re no more than a servant." His tone was dismissive, almost cruel, an attempt to gauge her reaction.

Mara’s expression remained unyielding, her eyes cold and determined. "Help me kill him, and I become a pawn in your game," she said, her voice steady, almost eerily calm. "I have no illusions about my value. All I care about is seeing everyone involved in my mother’s death suffer, and Curtis is at the top of that list. Beyond that, you can use me as you see fit. I will be your tool, your blade, your toy."

Linus raised an eyebrow, genuinely intrigued now. Her willingness to be manipulated was unexpected, but a raw edge to her words suggested she had nothing left to lose. "That’s quite the tempting offer, Mara," he said, leaning forward. "But I’m still unsure if the risk is worth the reward."

Mara took a step closer, the space between them shrinking. Her eyes burned with intensity, her voice dropping to a low, forceful whisper. "I know what you’ve been doing in Thornfield, Linus. If your ambitions are as grand as I think they are, there will be people you'll need to be enemies with, including everyone on my list."

There was silence between them for a moment, the weight of her words hanging heavily in the air. Linus felt a surge of something electric pass through him, a thrill at the audacity of what she was proposing. She was sharper than he’d given her credit for. Underwood’s death would send shockwaves through the kingdom, destabilizing Prince Alexander’s hold and perhaps even drawing Sorenputhra into the fray.

"You’ll have more than just me," Mara said firmly, breaking the silence. "You’ll gain the support of my mother's family through me. The Tradewoods have wealth, influence, and connections."

Linus’s lips curled into a half-smile, intrigued by the possibilities. "Then why not leverage the Tradewood money directly? Why come to me?"

Mara’s eyes flickered with a mix of pain and resolve. "Because the Tradewoods see me as a tool, just like everyone else. They didn’t lift a finger when my mother, their daughter, was murdered. For them, political alliances and benefits outweighed familial loyalty. They may back me publicly, but I can’t trust them."

Linus leaned back, fingers steepled, his mind racing. He recognized something familiar in her rawness—a desperation that made her willing to risk everything. If he could harness that desperation, he could mold it into a weapon, precise and deadly. But he needed to tread carefully. Tools, especially sharp ones, habitually turned on those who wielded them if not handled properly.

Linus's expression softened, masking his thoughts. "But Mara, you’re desperate," he said smoothly and almost sounding sympathetic. "How can I help you? I’m a nobody in this grand game—no army, no magic. What could I possibly offer that would be useful against someone like Curtis?"

Mara’s gaze sharpened, her lips curling into a slight, knowing smile. "Don’t play coy with me, Linus," she said, her voice low. "I know you’re hiding things. You may pretend to be an insignificant player, but I know about your Ratrians."

The word hung in the air, and for a moment, Linus’s mask slipped. The Ratrians were his covert network, a web of spies and informants he had been carefully building and nurturing, each of them unaware of who truly commanded them. Even within the network, his identity remained hidden, shrouded in secrecy. That Mara knew about them at all was troubling—and if she had uncovered it, there was a real possibility that others had as well, including Alexander. Somewhere, somehow, a crack had formed in his careful planning, and he needed to find it fast.

He recovered quickly, his face a picture of calm. "I’m impressed," he said, his voice light but edged with caution. "You’ve been digging deeper than I thought."

Mara's eyes didn't waver. "Think about it, Linus," she said, stepping closer, her tone almost conspiratorial. "You help me achieve my goals, and I’ll help you fulfill yours. You need allies, and so do I. We can’t afford to be fighting on all fronts alone."

Linus met her gaze, his mind spinning, analyzing the situation from every angle. She was offering a partnership, but it was one fraught with risk. Yet the fact that she had this information meant she could be either a dangerous liability or an invaluable asset. For now, he needed to keep her close, if only to learn how deep her knowledge went—and to figure out how she had gotten it in the first place.

"I’ll think about it," he said, masking his inner turmoil.

Mara nodded and turned to leave, the echo of her footsteps fading as she exited the study, leaving Linus alone with his thoughts. As the door clicked shut behind her, he allowed himself to process what had just happened. Mara had shown her hand, but he was still unsure of how many cards she held—and, more importantly, how many were missing from his own deck.