A Web of Lies Begins

Chapter 15: A Web of Lies Begins

Whispers in Noble Politics

The halls of House Aurelian's estate still carried the echoes of the night's scandal. Faint traces of music and laughter clung to the grand ballroom, but the real spectacle had not been the celebration. It had been the destruction of Cedric Vaelmont.

Now, the noble estate lay in a hush, as though the very walls wished to erase the memory of the humiliation that had unfolded. Yet, no amount of silence could undo what had been set into motion.

Noctis stood in the dimly lit corridor, hands casually folded behind his back, eyes locked onto the crumpled form before him.

Cedric Vaelmont—once an arrogant, highborn noble—was now a ruined man.

He slumped against the cold marble wall, his usually pristine coat now wrinkled, his golden hair disheveled. His breathing was uneven, and his fists trembled where they rested on his knees. Every rise and fall of his shoulders carried the weight of shame, disbelief, and bitter realization.

Noctis said nothing at first. He let the silence stretch, let the weight of the moment settle. Words wielded prematurely could be wasted. But silence? Silence could carve deep wounds, allowing a man to drown in his own thoughts.

It was Cedric who finally broke.

"You… You set me up," he rasped, his voice hoarse.

Noctis tilted his head slightly. He had expected that response.

"Set you up?" His voice carried no mockery, only quiet amusement. "No, Lord Vaelmont, I merely allowed the truth to be seen."

Cedric flinched. "The truth?"

Noctis stepped forward, the sound of his boots echoing slightly in the empty corridor. He crouched before Cedric, leveling his gaze with the fallen noble's.

"That you were reckless," he murmured, his tone almost gentle. "That your debts, your arrogance, and your desperate attempts to rise above your station would inevitably lead to ruin."

His dark eyes gleamed as he watched Cedric's throat tighten, his breath hitching slightly. Noctis leaned in just enough to make his presence suffocating.

"I simply ensured it happened on my terms, rather than yours."

The silence between them thickened like a slow-moving poison.

Cedric's lips parted, his pride warring with his understanding of reality. There was no defense, no way to argue against the truth of his downfall. He had walked into this trap blind, never realizing that the game had already begun before he even knew he was a player.

"And now," Noctis continued, his voice smooth, "you have two choices."

Cedric's jaw clenched.

"You can be discarded entirely," Noctis said, his tone light, as if he were speaking of something as inconsequential as a ruined chess piece. "Left to drown in the ruin you so artfully built for yourself." He allowed the weight of those words to settle, to let Cedric taste the reality of irrelevance. A noble stripped of power, cast out of high society, forgotten.

Noctis tilted his head, watching. Waiting.

"Or…" He let the word linger, letting Cedric reach for it like a lifeline. "You can be useful."

Cedric's body stiffened. The glint of defiance still flickered in his eyes, but it was drowning beneath the crushing weight of survival instinct.

He swallowed hard. "…What do you want from me?"

Noctis's smile widened ever so slightly.

"Oh, nothing too strenuous," he murmured. "Just a few words. A few whispers in the right places. A story, carefully spun, a rumor set loose into noble society."

Cedric's lips curled in disgust. "You want me to spread gossip?"

Noctis chuckled. "You think rumors are meaningless, do you?"

He reached forward then—slow, deliberate—and placed a hand on Cedric's shoulder. Not in comfort, but in quiet dominance.

"A blade can wound a single man," he said, voice a mere whisper, "but a rumor?"

His fingers tightened, just slightly.

"A rumor can wound an entire house."

Cedric shuddered.

Noctis leaned in further, his breath barely a ghost against Cedric's ear.

"It can strip away alliances. Poison trust. Turn the nobility against itself before they even realize what is happening."

He pulled back, dark amusement flickering in his gaze. "Words, dear Cedric, are far more dangerous than steel."

Cedric's breathing had quickened.

Noctis straightened. "So. Will you be useful?"

The fallen noble hesitated—pride clashing against the sharp edge of necessity. His hands clenched into fists, then released.

Then, finally—

He nodded.

A wise choice.

Two days later, the whispers began.

Soft, insidious things that slithered through noble gatherings, weaving themselves into idle conversation.

They were subtle at first, as all great lies were.

A passing comment here, an idle remark there.

"Did you hear? House Valen seems to be acquiring assets at an alarming rate."

"Strange, isn't it? Lord Holstein's trade routes were supposed to collapse, and yet…"

"I wonder if someone fed Lord Vaelmont false information. Quite embarrassing, really."

Noctis sat in a quiet corner of a high-end tea house, listening as nobles wove the threads of his deception without even realizing they were doing so.

It was almost laughable how easy it was.

Cedric had done his part well—though not out of skill, but sheer necessity. He had no choice but to follow Noctis's instructions, to let slip "accidental" remarks in social circles that would spread like wildfire.

The beauty of it was that none of the rumors pointed back to Noctis himself. No, the blame was carefully guided elsewhere, redirecting attention toward rival houses, stirring paranoia, and—most importantly—sowing doubt in the stability of noble society itself.

Noctis's fingers curled around his tea cup, the porcelain warm against his skin.

A web of lies is far more effective when the flies trap themselves.

He took a slow sip, satisfied as the first seeds of chaos began to take root.

That evening, as Noctis moved through the quieter parts of the city, a familiar presence made itself known.

A whisper of magic. A disturbance in the air.

He did not stop walking. "Following me so soon, Elara?"

From the shadows, a figure stepped forward.

Elara Nightshade—one of the few individuals Noctis deemed worthy of his attention. A fallen noble like himself, wielding shadow magic that allowed her to blend into the darkness.

She crossed her arms, silver eyes gleaming. "You're playing a dangerous game."

Noctis exhaled a soft laugh. "Am I?"

"Don't act oblivious." She took a step closer, her voice lower now. "You're not just spreading rumors—you're destabilizing the noble houses. Do you think they won't notice?"

"They will." Noctis's gaze met hers, calm, unwavering. "That's the point."

Elara frowned. "Then what's your end goal?"

He smiled. "Now, now. That would ruin the surprise, wouldn't it?"

She let out an irritated sigh. "Just don't get yourself killed."

"Ah." His eyes gleamed. "But where's the fun in that?"

Elara shook her head, but there was no true exasperation in her expression. If anything, she looked intrigued.

Noctis continued past her, his footsteps light against the cobblestone path.

The web had been woven. The lies had been spun.

And soon, the nobles would find themselves ensnared.

Noctis did not need brute strength to win this war.

He only needed time.

And time was something he had in abundance.