That night, the dimly lit dungeon was silent except for the occasional dripping of water echoing against the stone walls. A maid approached, her face emotionless as she carried a tray of food. “Food,” she muttered, throwing the tray onto the cold ground in front of the butler and Amelia. 

“You!” Amelia snapped, her eyes blazing with suspicion. 

The maid ignored her outburst. “Eat it,” she commanded coldly, her tone leaving no room for argument. 

The butler regarded the tray quietly for a moment before letting out a faint, resigned smile. “So, this is the answer,” he said, lifting the bowl of soup and drinking it without hesitation. 

“Father! No!” Amelia screamed, rushing to him as he collapsed to the floor. His breathing slowed, his eyes fixed on her as a faint smile lingered on his lips. 

The maid clicked her tongue in irritation. “Tsk, you could have escaped easily if you’d just cooperated,” she said, pulling a dagger from her apron. 

“So, this was the plan,” the butler murmured faintly, his voice barely audible. 

Before the maid could strike, a shadow coiled around her wrist, forcing her to drop the dagger. She turned in panic, realizing too late that the Duke stood behind her, his face an unreadable mask. 

“Who sent you here?” he demanded coldly, his shadows tightening around her body, immobilizing her completely. 

The maid laughed despite the constriction. “You think you’ll get answers from me?” Her voice was mocking, even as her body began to convulse unnaturally. Blood trickled from her lips, and she collapsed, dead before she could say more. 

“Tsk,” the Duke hissed in frustration, kicking the lifeless body aside. His golden eyes shifted to Amelia, who sat trembling on the floor beside her father’s corpse. 

“Get rid of the old man’s body and his daughter,” he ordered one of his men, who had silently entered the dungeon. “They’re useless to us now.” 

“No! Duke, please!” Amelia screamed, clutching at his cloak. “Have mercy! I was wrong! Please!” 

The Duke crouched to her level, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. “Did you think about the consequences when you tried harming my wife?” His voice was low, almost amused, as he watched the realization dawn on her face. 

Amelia’s sobs grew louder as he continued. “Oh, right. One more thing you should know before I leave you to your fate—Evelyn wasn’t pregnant.” He chuckled, standing and dusting off his hands. “I’ve been on contraceptives for months. The ‘pregnancy’ was a ruse, a little lie to force you and your pathetic father out of hiding.” 

His laughter echoed through the dungeon as Amelia’s agonized screams filled the air, her pleas for mercy falling on deaf ears. 

The Duke turned to leave, his expression calm once more as he addressed his men. “Find out where Isolde is. I know she’s still alive. Report to me immediately when you have something.” 

With that, he strode out of the dungeon, heading toward his study. Behind him, the cries of despair and the grim silence of death lingered in the air, marking the end of yet another act in his intricate game of power and vengeance.

As the Duke of Sable leaned back in his study chair, reviewing a stack of documents under the flickering candlelight, a soft knock interrupted his focus. Without lifting his gaze, he said, “Come in.” 

The door creaked open, and his trusted informant stepped inside, bowing respectfully. “Any news?” the Duke asked, his eyes remaining fixed on the papers. 

“It seems Duke Lucian is on his way to the capital. We might soon receive word regarding Lady Isolde,” the informant reported. 

The Duke’s lips curled into a faint smile. “Do you think that brat Lucian is planning to rebel?” he asked, his voice tinged with curiosity. 

“I cannot say for certain, my lord. However, the imperial knights raided the abandoned village and killed the innkeeper, but they found no trace of rebellion.” 

“Of course, they didn’t.” The Duke laughed softly, shaking his head. “Don’t underestimate that brat. He isn’t what he seems.” 

The informant hesitated, clearly puzzled. “What do you mean, my lord?” 

The Duke waved the question away, his demeanor turning icy. “It’s nothing. Focus on the task at hand.” 

“Understood,” the informant replied, though his hesitation lingered. “But, my lord… do you think we made the right decision by eliminating the butler and his supporters?” 

The Duke’s hand froze mid-motion, and his gaze snapped up, his eyes glinting with a murderous aura. “Are you questioning my judgment?” he asked, his voice cold and low. 

“N-No, my lord!” The informant stepped back, trembling. “I simply meant… spreading false rumors about the Duchess’s pregnancy and everything else… don’t you think the Emperor might view it as a challenge to his authority?” 

The Duke scoffed, leaning forward with a smirk. “The Emperor? As if I care what that puppet thinks. The Sable family has always been the dragon’s most loyal supporters. Because of a few fools, we’ve been forced to endure this charade.” 

The informant’s face turned pale. “T-The evil dragon? But no historical records mention the Sable family aligning with the dragon…” 

“Evil…” The Duke’s voice dripped with disdain as he leaned back, staring at the ceiling. “Right.” 

Before the informant could probe further, the new butler entered the room, bowing deeply. “Pardon the interruption, my lord, but the High Priest has requested an audience. They claim it’s urgent.” 

The Duke’s expression darkened. “Tell them I’m not interested,” he said curtly, waving the butler away. 

“But, my lord—” 

“Leave,” the Duke snapped, his voice like ice. 

Both the informant and the butler bowed and left hurriedly, leaving the Duke alone in the flickering light of the study. 

Once the room was silent, the Duke rose from his chair and walked to the far wall. Placing a hand on the intricate carvings, he pressed a hidden mechanism. With a soft click, a section of the wall slid open, revealing a small secret compartment. 

Inside lay a pristine white scroll bordered in gold. He pulled it out and unrolled it, staring at the ornate writing for a few moments. Without hesitation, he tossed the scroll into the fireplace, watching as the flames consumed it, the gold trim curling and turning to ash.  “Useless,” he murmured under his breath, his eyes reflecting the fire’s glow. 

As the last of the scroll crumbled into nothingness, he turned away, his expression unreadable. “Let the Emperor play his games,” he muttered, returning to his desk. “The Sable family will always stay one step ahead.”

To be continued....