Chapter 42: A Noble’s Betrayal

A City Under Jarek's Rule

Jarek had won.

The Ashen Brotherhood was gone, the Black Knives were in hiding, and the streets of Rookhaven now whispered one name.

Jarek Thorn.

But power was a tricky thing—the more you had, the more enemies you made.

And some of them?

They were far closer than he thought.

The Duke's Invitation

It came at sunrise.

Jarek sat in his newly claimed headquarters—a fortified tavern near the city center—when one of his men handed him a sealed letter.

The wax bore a familiar crest.

Duke Orlan Vale.

Tobias peered over his shoulder. "Oh, great. What does his lordship want now?"

Jarek broke the seal and read.

Jarek,

Your recent… activities have drawn much attention. We must speak, immediately.

Come alone.

Jarek exhaled. "That sounds like a trap."

Sylva leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "Orlan isn't an idiot. If he wanted you dead, he wouldn't invite you first."

Tobias scoffed. "I say we don't go."

Jarek smirked. "And miss the chance to see how nervous he is? No way."

The Duke's Warning

Jarek arrived at the Vale estate just before noon.

Unlike his last visit—when he was just a rising force—this time, the guards watched him with fear.

They knew.

A servant led him through the grand halls until they reached Orlan's private study.

The Duke sat behind his ornate desk, a glass of wine in hand.

"Jarek," he greeted, his voice smooth but not as confident as before.

Jarek took a seat, propping his boots on the table. "What's this about?"

Orlan sighed. "You've done well for yourself."

Jarek chuckled. "That's one way to put it."

The Duke leaned forward. "But you're walking a dangerous path."

Jarek tilted his head. "Oh? And whose path am I crossing?"

Orlan swirled his wine. "The noble houses. The merchant guilds. Even the royal court is asking questions."

Jarek smirked. "Let them ask."

Orlan sighed. "Jarek… Rookhaven isn't a lawless wasteland. There are rules. Power isn't just about who can swing the sharpest sword."

Jarek grinned. "Funny. That's how I got this far."

Orlan's gaze hardened. "The nobles will not let you rule this city."

Jarek leaned forward. "And what about you, Orlan? Where do you stand?"

The Duke hesitated.

And that told Jarek everything.

The Betrayal Unfolds

Jarek left the estate with a bad feeling.

Tobias met him outside. "So, what did the bastard say?"

Jarek glanced back at the mansion. "He's scared."

Sylva appeared from the shadows. "Then he's dangerous."

Jarek nodded. "More than we thought."

And he was right.

Because that night, Orlan made his move.

Assassins in the Dark

The attack came just after midnight.

Jarek had barely closed his eyes when the door burst open.

Steel flashed.

He rolled off the bed as a blade struck where his throat had been.

A masked assassin snarled and lunged again—Jarek caught the wrist, twisting hard until he heard a snap.

The assassin screamed.

Jarek drove his dagger into the man's chest.

But there were more.

From the hallway, shouts rang out. The sound of clashing steel filled the air.

Jarek burst into the hall to find Tobias already fighting—two men dead at his feet, a third barely holding his ground.

Sylva wasn't there.

Jarek's heart hammered. If she wasn't here, then—

"The back!" Tobias shouted, shoving his blade into an assassin's gut.

Jarek ran.

Down the stairs.

Through the corridor.

And into the courtyard—

Where he found Sylva, back against the wall, surrounded.

Turning the Tide

Five men. All armed.

Sylva was wounded. A cut along her arm, blood dripping onto the stone.

One of the assassins raised his sword—

Jarek threw his dagger.

It hit his throat.

The others turned—too slow.

Jarek was already moving.

He caught one by the collar and smashed his face into the stone wall.

Tobias arrived an instant later, his blade a blur.

Sylva, despite her injury, dodged an attack and drove her dagger into her attacker's kidney.

Within seconds, it was over.

The assassins lay dead.

Jarek's breath slowed. He turned to Sylva. "You alright?"

She wiped blood from her lip. "I've had worse."

Tobias spat on one of the corpses. "We gonna talk about who sent them?"

Jarek already knew.

Orlan.

And this time?

Jarek wouldn't ignore it.

A Message for Orlan

By dawn, the bodies were gone.

But the message had to be sent.

Jarek sent his own men to the Vale estate.

Not to kill.

Not yet.

Just to deliver a package.

A box.

Inside it?

One of the assassin's severed hands.

With a note:

You made your move.

Now I make mine.

The Next War Begins

Rookhaven was on edge.

The people knew something was coming.

A war.

Not between thieves or mercenaries.

But between Jarek Thorn and Duke Orlan Vale.

And only one of them would survive it.