THE GENERAL'S DISGRACED HEIR

The grandfather clock in Lord Cassius Drayven's study chimed four times, its deep voice echoing through the pre-dawn silence. Drayven barely glanced up from his correspondence, quill scratching across parchment as he reviewed the latest textile trade agreements. The Sun faction's interests in the southern provinces required careful attention, especially with the Moon faction's recent aggressive expansion.

A shadow moved across his window.

Drayven's hand paused mid-sentence. The shadow had been wrong, too fluid, too purposeful for the swaying oak branches outside. He set down his quill and reached for the ceremonial sword mounted on his wall, fingers closing around the familiar grip.

"Lord Drayven."

The voice came from behind him, impossibly calm and carrying an otherworldly quality that made his skin crawl. Drayven spun, sword clearing its sheath in one smooth motion, but the dark-robed figure standing in his doorway didn't even flinch.

"Your loyalty to the Sun Empress is... noted," the figure continued, face obscured by shadow despite the lamplight. "Unfortunately, the Moon faction has grown tired of your influence in the textile trade agreements."

"Moon faction?" Drayven's voice was steady, but his grip tightened on his sword. "You're making a mistake. I've never..."

The curved blade took him through the heart before he could finish the sentence. The assassin's movement was precise, professional, designed to look like the signature strike favored by Moon faction killers. Drayven's sword clattered to the floor as he stumbled backward, blood spreading across his silk nightrobe.

"No mistake," the assassin whispered, already moving toward the window. "Just business."

The small moon-shaped token landed on Drayven's desk with a soft clink, deliberately placed where investigators would find it. By the time the lord's body hit the floor, the assassin had vanished into the pre-dawn darkness.

****

Three hours later, David received the news while reviewing his own correspondence in the safe house. The shadow maiden who brought the report, Lyra, one of his most reliable operatives recruited recently, stood at attention beside his desk.

"The kill was clean," she reported. "Too clean. Whoever did this wanted it to look like a Moon faction hit, but they overplayed their hand."

David set down the intelligence report he'd been reading and studied the hastily sketched crime scene diagram. "Overplayed how?"

"The blade work. Moon faction assassins use reverse grips, left-handed strikes. This was right-handed, northern technique. And the token..." Lyra shook her head. "Real Moon faction killers don't leave calling cards. They pride themselves on subtlety."

David's fingers drummed against the desk as he processed the information. Someone was playing both sides against each other, but the question was who benefited from faction warfare. If the Sun and Moon nobles were too busy killing each other, they wouldn't notice other threats moving in the shadows.

"Double the surveillance on both faction leaders," he ordered. "And I want eyes on anyone who might profit from this chaos. Someone's orchestrating this, and I want to know who."

"What about the rumors?" Lyra asked. "Word is already spreading that either we (Eden) or the Whispering Creed are responsible."

David's expression darkened. Of course they were. Two secretive organizations with the skills and resources to pull off high-profile assassinations, perfect scapegoats for someone else's game.

"Let them talk," he said finally. "But make sure our people stay invisible. I don't want to give the real killer any more ammunition."

****

Lady Miriam Ashworth sat in her private parlor, hands trembling as she held the morning report. Lord Drayven's assassination had shaken her more than she cared to admit. Despite their political differences, Cassius had been a reasonable man, one of the few Sun faction nobles willing to compromise for the greater good.

"My lady," her chief advisor, Lord Garrett Blackmoor, entered with a grave expression. "The Sun faction is mobilizing. Lady Celestine is calling for immediate retaliation."

Miriam looked up, her usually composed features showing her age. "Retaliation against whom? We don't even know who killed Cassius."

"The evidence points to our people," Blackmoor said carefully. "And whether we ordered it or not, the Sun faction believes we're responsible. Any sign of weakness now will be seen as admission of guilt."

"So we're supposed to kill an innocent man to prove we're not killers?" Miriam's voice carried a bitter edge. "Is that what politics has become?"

Blackmoor moved closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "My lady, with respect, this isn't about innocence. This is about survival. The Sun faction will move against us regardless of our involvement. We need to strike first."

Miriam closed her eyes, feeling the weight of leadership crushing down on her shoulders. She'd entered politics to help people, to bring about meaningful change. Now she was being asked to order a man's death to protect her own position.

"Who would you recommend?" she asked, hating herself for the question.

"Lord Marcus Brightwater. He's been vocal about Moon faction 'treachery' in recent trade disputes. His death would send a clear message about the consequences of false accusations."

The name felt like poison in her mouth, but Miriam found herself nodding. "Make it look like our people did it. I won't have us skulking around like cowards."

What she didn't know was that Lord Blackmoor had already made the arrangements. The "recommendation" was merely a formality, a way to make her feel like she was in control while he executed plans that had been set in motion hours before.

****

Commander Tallix stood in the military command center, studying the reports from both crime scenes with the practiced eye of a career soldier. At fifty-three, he'd seen enough real battles to recognize the difference between genuine warfare and political theater.

"Sir?" His aide, a young lieutenant named Harris, approached with additional intelligence. "The Lord Brightwater situation has developed."

Tallix looked up from the magic sketches of Drayven's study. "Developed how?"

"He's been killed, sir. Ambushed leaving his club an hour ago. Multiple witnesses saw the attackers wearing Moon faction colours."

Tallix felt a cold knot form in his stomach. Two high-profile assassinations in the same day, each faction apparently targeting the other. But his military training screamed that something was wrong with the entire scenario.

"Show me the reports," he ordered.

Harris handed over the preliminary investigation files. Tallix spread them across his desk, comparing the evidence from both scenes. The more he studied, the more convinced he became that neither faction was responsible for the killings.

"Look at this," he said, pointing to the crime scene sketches. "Drayven's killer was right-handed, used northern blade techniques. Moon faction assassins are trained in western styles, predominantly left-handed reverse grips. And Brightwater's attackers..." He traced the witness statements with his finger. "Too disciplined, too coordinated. These weren't revenge killings driven by passion."

Lieutenant Harris frowned. "Then who, sir?"

Tallix was quiet for a long moment, thinking of his daughter Sarah's upcoming wedding. She'd been planning it for months, and he'd promised to walk her down the aisle. The thought of the capital descending into faction warfare made his chest tight with worry.

"Someone who benefits from chaos," he said finally. "Someone who wants Sun and Moon factions to destroy each other." He stood, decision made. "Contact Commander Voss in the Moon faction military. Tell him I want a private meeting. If we're going to prevent a war, we need to work together."

Harris looked uncertain. "Sir, that could be seen as treason by some in the Sun faction."

"Let them think what they want," Tallix replied, already reaching for his coat. "My loyalty is to the Empire first, politics second. And right now, the Empire needs us to find the real enemy before this city burns."