Chapter 3: The Invitation
The Valtore estate buzzed with whispers.
A gala had been called. Not a celebration, but a summoning. Once every decade, the Twelve Great Houses of the empire gathered for the Night of Inheritance — a political masquerade where heirs were paraded, alliances brokered, and enemies disguised as friends.
Lucien hated it.
It was a stage for fools.
But this year, he had no intention of playing the pawn.
He intended to flip the board.
---
In his private study, Lucien sat cross-legged on a velvet chair, reading a letter sealed with wax as black as night. The envelope had no insignia. No return name. Yet it arrived on his personal desk, bypassing every guard and detection spell.
That alone meant danger.
Or opportunity.
Inside was a single card, handwritten in fine, looping calligraphy:
> "The world behind the mirror watches you, Lucien Valtore.
Come to the Broken Bell at midnight.
Wear no crest. Bring no guard. Ask no questions."
— The Crow."
Lucien stared at the signature.
Not a name, but a title.
The Crow.
A myth among the criminal elite. No one had ever seen the face behind the name. Some said he was a ghost. Others swore he was a former noble who'd faked his death and now ruled the black markets from the shadows.
Lucien knew better.
The Crow was real.
And more importantly… useful.
He carefully burned the letter with a snap of his fingers and rose to his feet.
---
Midnight — The Broken Bell Tavern, Lower District
The tavern was a ruin of a place. Half-collapsed, rain-soaked, reeking of mold and blood. A place where the desperate came to drink away their names.
Lucien arrived dressed like a servant boy, hood drawn, face smudged. No one noticed him. Just the way he liked it.
He entered.
No music played. No voices murmured. Only a single candle lit the center of the room, where a round table sat — and across it, a figure cloaked in ink-black robes.
"Lucien Valtore," the man said calmly. "The heir who sees what should remain unseen."
Lucien took the seat opposite him. "The Crow, I presume."
"No," the man said. "Just a messenger."
Lucien didn't flinch. "Then give him a message for me."
The candle flickered unnaturally.
Lucien leaned forward.
"Tell him the world will belong to me — in the light and the dark. I'll make kings kneel, bury gods, and rule from behind the veil. If he wants to survive that world, he'll serve it."
Silence.
Then… laughter.
The messenger bowed his head.
"Spoken like a true monster," he said.
Lucien smiled faintly. "No. Monsters kill blindly. I calculate."
A second card slid across the table. A sigil etched in crimson ink — a raven swallowing a crown.
Access to the Black Veil.
Lucien now had a path into the criminal underworld. And more importantly — into the rumors, secrets, and forbidden knowledge the noble world would never admit existed.
His rise had begun