Fate's Forgotten Trickster

Chapter 12: A Game of an Aristocrat

The Boast of Lord Edwin Fairfax

The aristocracy was a battlefield draped in silk and gold. To the uninformed, it was a world of sophistication, art, and culture—but beneath the surface, it was a war of influence, deception, and silent assassinations.

Noctis Umbrael had spent weeks dissecting its mechanisms, pulling apart the threads that held this grand illusion together.

To the nobles, power was defined by lineage, wealth, and reputation. But Noctis knew better.

Power wasn't inherited. It was taken.

And to do that, one had to know the game better than anyone.

The streets of the noble quarter gleamed beneath the soft glow of enchanted lanterns, casting silver reflections against the cobbled roads. Carriages pulled by obsidian-hued steeds glided past, bearing lords and ladies to extravagant banquets, their laughter ringing with hollow amusement.

Noctis walked without hurry, his footsteps barely audible over the murmurs of aristocrats in passing. A shadow among nobles, unseen yet ever-present.

He wasn't here for idle gossip.

He was hunting for truths hidden beneath the surface.

Each noble house was an empire of its own, a fortress built upon secrets, alliances, and betrayals. Understanding them meant understanding who ruled the empire from the shadows.

And that knowledge?

It was power.

The moon hung low over the capital, bathing the noble quarter in pale silver light. The city was alive with soft murmurs of evening gatherings, the occasional clink of glasses, and the rhythmic clatter of hooves against cobblestone.

Noctis walked at an unhurried pace, his cloak barely rustling as he passed rows of extravagant manors.

He was not merely walking. He was listening.

Aristocrats often spoke in half-truths, believing themselves untouchable in their world of titles and fortunes. But even in whispers, secrets bled through the cracks.

Near the entrance of a grand estate, a noblewoman in a silver gown leaned into the ear of a duke's son, her voice low but urgent.

"You don't understand. House Aurelius is tightening its grip on the border territories. If my father sides against them, we'll be ruined—"

A snide laugh cut through her plea.

"Then perhaps your father should learn when to kneel."

Noctis moved past without acknowledging them, but the information had already been memorized.

House Aurelius. Expansion. Political strife.

A clue for later.

Over the past month, Noctis had uncovered the true forces that dictated the empire's fate.

The first was the Noble Houses they are the Public Rulers. These were the recognized rulers of the empire—the dukes, marquesses, and earls. They maintained their positions through military strength, wealth, and lineage.

Some were bound by duty. Others were wolves in silk, preying on those weaker than them.

Among the most powerful noble houses, three stood above the rest:

House Aurelius – The emperor's most trusted family, known for their golden-haired heirs and unparalleled military might.

House Valmont – The wealthiest house, controlling trade routes and financial institutions across the empire.

House Caelum – A house of scholars and mages, their knowledge both revered and feared.

They were pillars, and to shake them would shake the empire itself.

Second are the Hidden Societies which from the little information gathered are the Shadow Rulers. Beyond the noble houses lay organizations that existed outside the public eye—groups that silently dictated the empire's direction.

Noctis had already uncovered a few:

The Black Thorn Society – An elite group of assassins, whispered to serve only the highest bidders.

The Ivory Pact – An underground merchant guild dealing in contraband, forbidden relics, and knowledge lost to time.

The Hollow Circle – A secret cabal that practiced the arcane, their members rumored to possess powers beyond human limits.

They did not bow to the emperor.

They owned the emperor.

Third the Unseen Puppeteers these are the Forgotten Bloodlines. This was what truly intrigued Noctis.

Once, there had been other noble lines. Ones erased from history.

Bloodlines that threatened the established order.

His own bloodline.

To truly navigate this world, Noctis needed information—but not through brute force.

He moved through noble gatherings, letting his presence be seen but never felt.

Every word he spoke had meaning.

Every silence he held was a trap.

A Banquet of Subtle Lies

That evening, Noctis attended an intimate gathering hosted by Lady Genevieve Laurent, a noblewoman known for her influence despite her lesser title.

She was a woman of influence despite her low rank, her drawing room often filled with those who thought themselves above her—yet sought her approval. Her estate was filled with the powerful and the desperate—aristocrats who either commanded the empire or begged for favor within it.

As Noctis stepped inside the grand hall, he adopted his mask of an obedient noble.

It was the perfect place to observe without drawing attention.

As the evening unfolded, Noctis carefully planted himself within conversations, letting the nobles' own words betray them.

He was a shadow among peacocks, moving unnoticed as he gathered information.

Throughout the evening, Noctis allowed himself to be drawn into conversations, each one offering a glimpse into the hidden games nobles played.

Like that boasting flushed young noble—Lord Edwin Fairfax, heir to a lesser house—spoke too freely after his third glass of wine.

The laughter at the banquet swelled and dipped like the tides of the ocean, but Noctis only focused on the drunken noble before him.

Lord Edwin Fairfax was a man of average stature, his golden curls disheveled from too much wine, his pale blue eyes gleaming with intoxicated confidence.

He was one of those lesser nobles—loud, reckless, and desperate to be recognized.

His words had slipped out carelessly, carried by the warmth of wine and the arrogance of entitlement.

"You see, true power isn't about birthright. It's about knowing which blade to hire!" Edwin's voice slurred slightly, but the smug grin on his lips remained intact.

"My father ensures our enemies disappear without a trace. A shame, really, but necessary."

The statement hung in the air for a second too long.

Noctis tilted his head, letting the silence stretch before offering a polite chuckle.

"A fascinating perspective, Lord Fairfax," he mused.

"I assume your father prefers professionals? The Black Thorn Society, perhaps?" The mere mention of the infamous assassin guild made Edwin tense.

For the briefest moment, a flicker of panic crossed his features, a crack in his drunken bravado. His hand twitched around his glass, grip tightening slightly. Then, with an effort that was almost laughable, he forced another laugh, louder than necessary.

"Ah, well, I wouldn't know such things… just speaking nonsense, you know how it is."

Noctis smiled, but there was no warmth in it.

He had confirmed what he needed.

Fairfax had spoken too freely. In a world where power was everything, such a careless admission could only mean one thing—he was either a fool or he believed himself untouchable.

Neither was a good trait to have in the noble world.

Noctis took a slow sip of his wine, letting the flavors settle on his tongue as his mind dissected the conversation.

The Black Thorn Society was not a name that should be spoken lightly.

They were whispers in the dark, an organization of assassins that thrived in the underbelly of the empire. Even the most powerful noble houses only dealt with them in hushed tones.

For Edwin Fairfax to even joke about such an affiliation suggested that his family was far more involved in the world of assassinations than they let on.

"Interesting."

Noctis subtly adjusted his posture, shifting from idle conversation to information extraction mode.

"You must have quite the capable father, Lord Fairfax," Noctis said smoothly, swirling the deep red wine in his glass. "To ensure enemies disappear without a trace… That is a skill few can claim to have mastered."

Edwin's drunken grin faltered.

"Ah, well, my father has many connections… as any wise man should," he said, trying to sound casual. But Noctis noticed the slight tightness in his shoulders, the way his fingers tapped against his goblet—small signs of discomfort.

Good.

"A wise man indeed," Noctis agreed.

"It takes great intelligence to know which hands to shake and which to sever." He took a sip of his wine.

"Or in some cases… which to make disappear."

Edwin stiffened.

Noctis let the words settle, savoring the growing unease in his expression.

"Tell me," Noctis continued, his voice light, almost lazy.

"Are these… disappearances common in your house's dealings? I imagine it must be quite the challenge—ensuring discretion while also sending a clear message."

Edwin licked his lips, his drunken bravado slipping further. "N-No, I mean… It's just… rumors, you know how people talk."

"Oh, certainly," Noctis said.

"But rumors often have a root of truth, don't they?"

Silence.

A bead of sweat formed at Edwin's temple. His fingers twitched, and he hastily took a large gulp of his drink as if that would wash away his mistakes.

"I— I think you're reading too much into this, Lord Umbrael," Edwin said, forcing out a chuckle that sounded hollow.

"Really, it was just drunk talk. Harmless banter."

Noctis smiled.

"Of course, my lord. Just harmless banter."

But Edwin knew.

And Noctis knew that he knew.

This was no longer just an idle conversation.

It was a game of leverage, and Noctis had already won the first round.

Noctis let the conversation drift to more trivial matters, allowing Edwin to recover some of his earlier confidence. But the damage was already done.

By the time the noble excused himself, muttering something about finding more wine, Noctis already had his next course of action mapped out.

House Fairfax.

A lesser noble house with moderate influence, but their true strength lay in something far more dangerous than wealth or land.

Assassination.

They were involved with the Black Thorn Society, and if they had used them once…

They would use them again.

Noctis turned his gaze to the rest of the banquet, watching the glittering nobles sip their wine and exchange pleasantries.

They lived in a world where words held more weight than swords.

But Noctis?

He played both games.

And House Fairfax?

They had just entered his list of potential targets.