Fate's Forgotten Trickster

Chapter 10: A Smile That Hides a Thousand Lies

The Umbrael estate was as cold as ever, both in its atmosphere and the people who ruled it. Towering black spires loomed over the intricate courtyard, the crest of their noble house—a raven clutching a crescent moon—etched into the great doors of the dining hall.

For Margrave Noctis Umbrael, every step within these walls was a performance, every word spoken a move in a grander game.

He had passed the noble trial, but rather than acknowledgment, he was met with silence. It was not disappointment. It was something far worse.

They are watching me now.

That meant he had to be careful.

Not just about his abilities. Not just about the shifting politics within the house.

But about who he allowed to see the real him.

Because his greatest strength wasn't the power he wielded—it was what he could make others believe.

Breakfast in House Umbrael was an orchestration of power rather than a simple meal. The long onyx dining table, carved with ancient runes, was set with silverware finer than most nobles could afford.

At its head sat Marquis Vaelen Umbrael, the ruler of the house. His cold eyes barely acknowledged Noctis as he took his seat.

To his right sat Caelum, still seething from yesterday. The older brother's every movement was precise, controlled—except for the way his grip tightened on his fork when Noctis entered.

To the left was Seraphina, her cool gaze betraying nothing. She observed, analyzed, but never spoke first.

Noctis knew his place. He was the forgotten one, the unworthy son. To suddenly stand out meant that eyes were now upon him—watching, waiting for him to overstep.

He had to act accordingly.

He took his seat without hesitation but without arrogance, bowing his head slightly in silent deference.

"Good morning, Father," he said, his tone measured, careful.

A few beats of silence.

Vaelen continued eating as though Noctis had said nothing.

The rejection was expected. He wasn't hurt by it. If anything, it was a confirmation that his father still viewed him as insignificant.

That was good.

To be ignored was to be underestimated.

He folded his hands, his every movement measured.

A servant poured him tea.

He reached for his cup—then paused.

It was a subtle sensation, but his mind whispered of something off.

A faint disturbance in his perception.

Noctis's fingers brushed the porcelain, and his abilities stirred—not seeing the truth directly, but shifting his own perception to notice distortions others would miss.

And there it was.

A shimmer that should not be there. A disturbance in the surface tension of the liquid.

Poison? No. Too crude.

A weakening agent, perhaps. Something to make his movements sluggish. Something to humiliate him in front of his father.

Noctis said nothing.

Instead, he lifted the cup gracefully—but just as he brought it close, his fingers slipped.

The cup tipped, spilling onto the pristine white tablecloth.

A small mistake. A clumsy error.

Noctis's head bowed immediately, his voice calm but regretful.

"My apologies," he murmured, reaching for a napkin.

A trivial accident. Something that no noble should make a fuss over.

And yet—

A single beat of silence.

Across the table, Caelum's grip tightened on his fork.

Just for a second.

It was all Noctis needed.

Ah. So it was you.

His brother said nothing, continuing his meal as though unaffected.

That was a mistake.

To ignore something was to confirm guilt in silence.

After breakfast, Noctis exited the dining hall into the shadowed corridors of the manor.

He had just reached the grand staircase when a voice cut through the silence.

"You should be more careful."

Noctis turned.

Seraphina stood there, leaning against a marble column.

Her expression was unreadable, but her sharp violet eyes held amusement.

"About what?" Noctis asked, his voice light, unbothered.

She tilted her head, her golden hair glinting in the dim light. "Accidents. Clumsiness. Things that others might use to test you."

She had noticed, then.

Noctis smiled. "I'll keep that in mind, dear cousin."

Seraphina studied him for another moment. Then, just as she walked past, she murmured—

"The nobles don't fear power."

She paused, just long enough to let her words linger.

"They fear what they can't predict."

And then she was gone.

Noctis remained still, his mind turning.

A warning. Or perhaps... a test.

Either way, it meant the same thing—someone was watching him more closely now.

Later that evening, Noctis walked through the private training grounds behind the estate. The air was cool, crisp, the scent of damp earth clinging to the autumn breeze.

Before him stood an array of wooden training dummies—lifeless, unseeing.

But Noctis wasn't here to train in swordsmanship or archery.

No.

He was here to refine something far deadlier.

Standing between the dim lantern light and the shadows, he let his mind shift.

His power was not physical. It never had been.

It was mental.

And that made it far more insidious.

Closing his eyes, he focused—not on what he saw, but on what he could make himself believe.

Then, he willed reality to shift.

The dummies before him blurred, their wooden features bending, stretching—until they were no longer just figures.

They became people.

Their empty faces now bore expressions. Their still bodies moved, reacting in ways they never had before.

It wasn't true illusion magic. He wasn't altering the world itself.

He was altering his own mind's perception of it.

Which, in turn, allowed him to control how he reacted to what he saw.

A duelist's stance, mimicked perfectly from watching Caelum. A servant's shuffle, imitated with eerie precision.

He could shift between roles seamlessly, adjusting his behavior, his voice, his very presence.

It was the same thing he did with people.

Convincing them of a truth that didn't exist.

Making them see what he wanted them to see.

And never letting them realize the truth until it was too late.

Noctis opened his eyes, his breathing slow, measured.

The training dummies stood exactly as they had before.

Yet, for just a moment, they had felt alive.

His power was growing.

And soon… soon he would use it against more than just illusions.