Had deliberately hidden it among the archives

Reginald froze.

The question slithered through the air, deceptively casual, yet sharp enough to draw blood.

"I—" He hesitated for only a moment before schooling his expression into one of his usual practiced neutrality. "I do not play with the servants, Master Cassius."

Cassius turned fully then, gloved fingers adjusting the cuff of his sleeve with a slow, measured grace. His expression remained unreadable, but his eyes gleamed with something dark, something knowing.

"Is that so?"

Reginald swallowed, his posture stiff but controlled.

"I oversee the staff, as is my duty," he continued carefully, choosing his words like a man navigating a minefield. "Elias is no exception."

Cassius hummed, stepping closer.

The room was silent, save for the faint rustle of silk as he moved.

Reginald remained perfectly still, his spine rigid.

Then, without warning—

"Tell me," Cassius murmured, his voice dropping into something silkier, more heavier. "Do you think he fears me?"

Reginald's breath caught in his throat.

The master never asked questions without already knowing the answers.

And yet, this felt like a test.

"…Yes. There's no one in this household who doesn't fear the master" he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Cassius exhaled slowly, the sound low and almost amused—but not quite.

"Good."

That single word sent a chill down Reginald's spine.

Cassius turned away then, his attention shifting to the window. His gaze remained fixed on something beyond the glass, his expression was unreadable.

"I find it rather strange," he mused, almost as if speaking to himself. "He never used to tremble before."

Reginald remained silent, knowing better than to interrupt.

"And yet, lately…" Cassius's fingers tapped against the windowsill in a slow, rhythmic pattern. "He looks at me as if I'm a wolf about to tear out his throat."

He turned his head slightly, just enough to catch Reginald's reflection in the glass.

"Tell me, Reginald. Why do you think that is?"

Reginald could feel his heartbeat in his throat.

He had served Cassius long enough to know when to tread carefully.

"Perhaps, Master," he said slowly, each word chosen with caution, "it is because he knows his place."

Cassius chuckled at that—soft, almost pleasant.

And yet, the air in the room grew heavier.

"Perhaps."

A pause.

Then, with quiet finality—

"I've decided to change his position."

Reginald's head snapped up, his carefully composed expression wavering for only a fraction of a second.

Cassius turned back to face him fully, a slow, knowing smile curling at the edge of his lips.

"Elias will no longer be working in the kitchens," he said smoothly. "From now on, he will serve as my personal valet."

Reginald barely managed to keep his expression composed.

"Master," he said carefully, "Elias has no training for such a role."

Cassius tilted his head slightly, studying him with quiet amusement. "Do you believe he will fail?"

Reginald hesitated, his mind racing.

That wasn't the issue.

The issue was why.

Why Elias?

Cassius never made decisions without purpose. If he was placing Elias in such a position, it was not out of mere whimsy.

"…He will need guidance," Reginald said at last. "It is an unfamiliar duty."

Cassius smile was slow and unreadable.

"Then he will learn."

And just like that, the matter was settled.

Cassius reached for his mask, his movements unhurried as he slid it into place with practiced ease.

Reginald was one of the few people who had seen Cassius face or even knew his name.

"Inform him of his new duties," he ordered. "I expect him to be properly dressed and prepared by tomorrow morning."

Reginald bowed, his voice steady despite the unease curling in his gut. "Yes, Master."

As he turned to leave, Cassius's voice drifted through the room once more, stopping him in his tracks.

"Oh, and Reginald?"

Reginald glanced back, his breath held in quiet anticipation.

Cassius's gaze remained unreadable beneath the mask, but the weight of it pressed against him like an unspoken command.

"Make sure he understands that this is not a request."

Reginald hesitated for only a second before bowing once more. "Understood, Master. I shall see to it that's he's prepared."

He turned to leave, his steps measured and heavy . However, before he could reach the door, Cassius's voice halted him once again.

"One more thing."

The words were smooth, almost absent-minded, but Reginald knew better than to mistake them for disinterest.

"Bring me Elias's file."

Reginald stiffened, though he quickly masked his reaction before it could be noticed. His hand hovered just above the door handle as he carefully schooled his expression.

"His file, Master?"

Cassius tilted his head slightly, amusement flickering in his gaze at the hesitation. "Yes. Surely there is one, isn't there?"

Reginald swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. Every servant in Ravenspire had a record detailing their names, histories, and the circumstances that led to their servitude.

Elias's file was no exception.

However, Elias's records had remained buried in the archives for a reason.

Cassius's gaze remained unwavering, leaving no room for further argument. There was no option other than to comply.

"Yes, Master. I will retrieve it immediately."

With that, he slipped from the room, shutting the door behind him with deliberate care.

Only once he was out of Cassius's sight did he allow himself a slow, steadying breath. The request unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

Elias's file was not missing, nor had it ever been tampered with. On the surface, its contents appeared ordinary. Despite that, it was one of the few records Reginald had chosen to keep hidden among the archives, away from prying eyes.

That decision had been intentional.

Now that, Cassius was demanding to see it, and the implications were far from reassuring.

Reginald moved swiftly through the dimly lit corridors of Ravenspire, his mind racing with possibilities. It had been years since Elias had first arrived, years since the details of his past had held any real significance.

Most of the servants never questioned his origins.

They only saw what Elias had become—a quiet, obedient figure who had long since learned to endure in silence.

That was enough for them.

However, Cassius was not like the others. His attention was never aimless, and his curiosity never led to anything good. If he had noticed something about Elias, there was a reason behind it.

Reaching the records room, Reginald retrieved a key from his pocket and unlocked the heavy wooden door. The scent of aged parchment and dust filled the air as he stepped inside, greeted by towering shelves that housed the histories of every servant who had ever walked these halls.

He moved with purpose, his fingers trailing along the spines of the ledgers until they came to a stop.

Elias's name was written in elegant, careful script.

Reginald hesitated only briefly before pulling the file free from its place among the others.

His eyes skimmed the pages, his expression remaining carefully neutral even as he absorbed the familiar words.

A quiet breath left him as he shut the file, fingers tightening around the worn edges.

There was no time to waste. Cassius had issued an order, and the only thing left to do was deliver exactly what had been requested.