Fate's Forgotten Trickster

Gathered Intel

The air was thick with the scent of fine wine and expensive cologne, a lingering haze of noble arrogance and concealed malice. Noctis moved effortlessly through the ballroom, his sharp eyes watching, cataloging, measuring. The evening had been fruitful, each interaction a thread in the grand web he was spinning.

And now, he had chosen his first prey.

Viscount Cedric Vaelmont.

A man whose influence rested not on wit or strategy, but on brute force—socially, politically, and sometimes even physically. He was the kind of noble who believed power was best wielded through intimidation, and Noctis found such men… predictable.

He joined the ongoing conversation between Cedric and a few other nobles, slipping in like a shadow, his presence unobtrusive yet deliberate. The topic was one Noctis had subtly guided earlier in the night—the importance of reputation.

"A noble's greatest asset is his reputation," Noctis mused, swirling the dark red wine in his glass. "Once that is lost, what is left?"

Cedric let out a short, confident chuckle, his broad frame exuding the arrogance of a man who had never feared consequences. But Noctis caught it—the smallest flicker of unease in his eyes, gone in an instant.

"A man's strength, of course," Cedric replied, tilting his glass to his lips, as if the answer was obvious.

Noctis smiled, a polite, harmless expression.

"Ah, but strength fades," he countered smoothly. "Reputation, however… lingers."

A few of the other nobles nodded thoughtfully, the weight of Noctis's words settling into their minds like seeds waiting to take root. Cedric, however, narrowed his gaze, his easy demeanor hardening just slightly.

Noctis had placed the first stone on the board.

And now, he would begin to play.

Noctis did not press Cedric immediately. That would have been reckless. Instead, he let the conversation flow, subtly shifting it toward topics that fed into the Viscount's ego—his successes, his dominance over lesser nobles, his unwavering hold on his lands.

Cedric took the bait eagerly, boasting with the careless confidence of a man who had never truly been challenged.

"The weak crumble because they hesitate," Cedric declared, taking another sip of his drink. "Hesitation is what kills a man, not the blade itself."

"Wise words," Noctis agreed with an approving nod. "So, I take it you've never hesitated?"

Cedric smirked. "Never. If you show weakness, the world will devour you."

Noctis tilted his head, feigning curiosity. "And what of those who have crossed you, my lord? Surely not all have fallen so easily."

Cedric scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. "Those who try quickly learn their mistake. Some disappear, some ruin themselves trying to fight back. The smart ones know their place."

Some disappear.

The words were carelessly spoken, but Noctis had been waiting for them. He let them linger in the air for a moment before offering an easy smile.

"It must be difficult, maintaining such absolute control. You must be quite careful to ensure no… loose ends remain."

Cedric's jaw tightened—just for a fraction of a second.

Another piece of the puzzle.

The Viscount had loose ends. He had made enemies who had either fallen or vanished, but Noctis could sense it—not all of them were gone.

Now he just needed to find them.

Hours later, as the night began to wane, Noctis stood near the grand balcony, watching the city lights flicker below. His mind was already several steps ahead, piecing together the next phase of his plan.

"You've chosen an ambitious target."

Noctis did not turn at the voice.

Lady Isolde Lysandre stood beside him, her wine glass half-full, the lace of her veil barely concealing the sharp amusement in her gaze.

"I suppose you'll tell me it's a foolish choice," Noctis murmured.

"Oh, not at all," Isolde replied, swirling her wine. "I simply wonder if you know what you're walking into."

Noctis finally turned to her, his expression unreadable. "A man like Cedric Vaelmont thrives because people assume he is untouchable. That assumption is his greatest weakness."

Isolde chuckled. "Then I look forward to seeing how you intend to… touch him."

She held out her glass in a silent toast.

Noctis clinked his own glass against hers, a small, knowing smile curving his lips.

"Carefully," he said. "And with precision."

The noose was tightening.

And soon, Cedric Vaelmont would find himself ensnared.

As Noctis stepped out of the grand hall, the cool night air greeted him like a whisper of the unknown. The scent of lingering wine, candle wax, and noble deception clung to his clothes, yet his mind was sharper than ever.

He had walked into the gathering as a mere observer, an outsider barely acknowledged by the aristocracy.

He left as something far more dangerous.

He had marked his first prey.

He had gained information on the secret factions moving in the dark.

He had caught the attention of someone who knew more than they let on.

But most importantly—he had taken his first real step into the true game.

The game was no longer just about survival.

It was about domination.

And Noctis?

He was ready to play.

Cedric Vaelmont.

The name now rested at the forefront of Noctis's mind, like a puzzle waiting to be solved. The Viscount's influence was undeniable—his family controlled valuable trade routes, mercenary contracts, and even had ties to the imperial military. He was not just powerful; he was entrenched.

But power breeds arrogance.

And arrogance?

It blinds even the most dangerous of men.

Noctis had seen the flicker of unease in Cedric's eyes. The brief hesitation when Noctis subtly prodded at his reputation, the slip of the tongue when he mentioned disappearances. A man like Cedric did not fear opposition—he expected it. But Noctis had no intention of moving against him like a common enemy.

He would unravel Cedric piece by piece.

First, he needed information.

Then there's the Power in the empire which was not held by nobles alone.

Beneath the surface, beneath the golden chandeliers and silk-lined corridors, there existed forces far older than any noble house.

Tonight, Noctis had learned their names.

The Black Thorn Society. The silent executioners, hired by those with enough wealth to make inconvenient people disappear. He had all but confirmed Cedric's connections to them.

The Ashen Veil. A faction shrouded in secrecy, known only in whispers. Their influence spread like an invisible net, pulling strings where even the Emperor's hand could not reach.

The Hollow Pact. A rumored gathering of nobles, merchants, and criminals who had made dangerous deals with forces beyond the mortal realm.

And then there was the unknown player—the one who had hinted at forbidden artifacts. Lord Augustus Lorne.

"Some objects are so powerful, they were erased from history. But if one knows where to look… they can still be found."

Lorne had spoken of them as if they were myths. But Noctis had seen the gleam in his eye.

He had spoken as someone who knew.

It was another thread to pull, another door waiting to be opened.

Then there was Lady Isolde Lysandre.

The veiled noblewoman had spoken with amusement, but her words carried a weight that others had not. She had not just implied the danger of knowledge—she had warned him.

"Because the last time a trickster walked among the nobility… the empire nearly fell."

That was not idle gossip.

That was history.

And she knew it.

What else did she know?

Did she recognize him for what he was?

Or was she testing him, waiting to see if he was worthy of the knowledge she held?

Noctis had to tread carefully.

Isolde was not an enemy.

Not yet.

But she was dangerous.

As Noctis walked through the quiet corridors of his estate, his mind whirled with possibilities. The pieces had been set in motion, the stage prepared for something far greater than he had anticipated.

He had stepped into the world of aristocracy as an extra, a forgotten heir with no power.

But tonight, he had rewritten his role.

He was no longer just surviving.

He was hunting.

And in this game of shadows, there was only one rule—

The one who controls the board controls the fate of all.

Noctis intended to be that player.