Forge Of Fate: A Blacksmiths Journey

The Academy had been patient. Too patient.

While assassins had been cutting down students in the streets, whispers had reached the faculty—names of noble patrons funding the chaos. The Blood Nights were never just random contracts; they had always been orchestrated by powerful hands.

And now, three of those hands had been exposed.

Valdris stood at the center of the Academy's war room, his piercing gaze sweeping over the gathered faculty. The chamber was dimly lit, a single crystal lantern casting flickering shadows across the large wooden table. The air was thick with unspoken tension. Stacks of reports lay scattered across the surface—records of assassins caught, financial ledgers recovered from safe houses, and testimonies extracted through alchemical coercion.

Sylvia flipped through a pile of documents. "Most of these contracts trace back to several noble houses, but they're well-hidden behind layers of intermediaries."

Xel'thar scoffed, leaning back in his chair. "Cowards. Too afraid to bloody their own hands, so they pay others to do it for them."

Baudric, ever the scholar, placed a delicate finger on a specific report. "House Davros. A merchant noble known for financing… questionable ventures. He's been moving large sums through the city's underground networks, and a significant amount of it aligns with the rise in assassination contracts."

Vaelis frowned, scanning another parchment. "House Valren. They have been supplying mercenaries to multiple conflicts. We captured one assassin who identified himself as a former Valren soldier."

Sylvia tapped a vial of ink against the table, her expression grim. "And then there's House Belvade. They've been bribing officials, ensuring assassins avoid capture or trial. Every time we tried to seize one of them, they vanished before we could act."

Valdris exhaled slowly. "Three names. Three noble families." He folded his arms. "That's enough. Now we confirm it."

The first breakthrough came from intercepted financial records. The Academy had connections—The Bank, for one, owed no allegiance to any single noble, only to wealth. With enough pressure, certain accounts were opened to scrutiny.

"This transfer here," Baudric pointed at a document retrieved from The Bank's archives. "A significant sum moved from Davros's estate to a known assassin broker three weeks before the Blood Nights began."

Xel'thar narrowed his eyes. "That's enough for a battalion of killers."

Sylvia nodded. "And it wasn't even subtle. They weren't expecting anyone to dig this deep."

Vaelis and Xel'thar had a different approach—capturing a few lower-tier assassins and prying the truth from them. Some resisted. Most did not.

One assassin, a lean man with a missing ear, sat bound in a darkened chamber beneath the Academy. Vaelis leaned against the wall, watching as Xel'thar traced a rune in the air, filling the room with an unnatural hum.

"You know what this spell does?" Xel'thar asked conversationally.

The assassin swallowed.

"It removes your ability to lie," Vaelis answered for him. "Permanently."

The assassin's lips trembled. "You can't—"

"Where did the contracts originate?" Vaelis cut him off.

"I… I don't know the specifics," the man admitted, sweat forming on his brow. "But I know that one of our funding sources was House Davros. I never met them, but orders were passed down through intermediaries."

Xel'thar's rune glowed brighter. "And House Valren?"

"Their soldiers trained some of us. Not openly. Secret camps, off-record. They funneled weapons through black-market channels."

Sylvia, watching from the side, exhaled. "That confirms it."

Vaelis studied the assassin for a moment before looking at Xel'thar. "He's outlived his usefulness."

Xel'thar flicked his fingers, and the assassin collapsed unconscious.

Valdris stood at the center of the academy's war room, his piercing gaze sweeping over the gathered faculty. The air was thick with unspoken tension. Finally, he spoke.

"We have confirmation. Three noble houses backed one of the assassin groups operating in the city. They thought their wealth would shield them from consequence." His voice was ice. "They were wrong."

Silence followed his words—cold, heavy. Then, a single voice broke it.

Baudric (Head of the history department) leaned forward, adjusting his spectacles. "And you want them retrieved?"

Valdris nodded. "Alive. Their influence may protect them in the courts, but within these walls, they will answer for their crimes."

Xel'thar, the academy's battlemage & head of the species studies, cracked his knuckles, arcane energy flickering around his fingertips. "That's a shame. Dragging them back in chains will be less fun than turning them to ash."

Vaelis Thornbloom, ever the pragmatist, simply smirked. "If they come quietly, good. If not…" He shrugged. "I've been meaning to test a new restraint spell."

Valdris's voice darkened. "Two weeks. That's all you have. Make it public."