The War of Business and Calm Before Betrayal

Sonya sat by the candlelight in her chamber, her delicate fingers slowly unsealing the small letter that had just arrived via a raven.

The wax emblem on the parchment bore the unmistakable mark of the Bunny's Lair.

She smirked, a spark of satisfaction lighting up her violet eyes as she carefully unfolded the note.

At last.

The formula was in her hands.

Austin Ravenclaw…

You underestimated me.

She read through the parchment, absorbing every ingredient, every process that made Ravenclaw's beauty products the most sought-after in the empire.

A slow, satisfied smile crept onto her lips.

"Now you see, you sly bastard," she whispered under her breath, "you will crumble."

The First Step – Delivering the Formula

Sonya turned towards Mira, her trusted maid and assistant.

Mira stood attentively by the door, waiting for her lady's command.

"Take this," Sonya said, holding out the parchment.

Mira stepped forward, taking it carefully between her gloved fingers.

"Where shall I deliver it, Your Highness?"

Sonya's smirk deepened.

"To Lucian."

Mira's hands tensed slightly. Lucian De Vayne.

A cunning businessman, and one of the few men who dared to challenge Ravenclaw's economic monopoly.

But more importantly—Lucian was ruthless.

He wouldn't hesitate to use the formula to flood the market with cheaper alternatives, striking at Ravenclaw's hold on the beauty industry.

A storm was coming.

And Sonya was the one setting it in motion.

Mira hesitated. "My lady… are you sure? Lucian is known to be unpredictable. He could just as easily use this formula for his gain rather than support you."

Sonya chuckled.

"That's exactly what I want him to do."

Lucian's Reaction – The Beginning of a Rivalry

The next evening, within a grand estate at the heart of the merchant district, Lucian De Vayne leaned against his office chair, his sharp blue eyes scanning the parchment before him.

He ran a gloved hand through his platinum blond hair, a slow grin spreading across his lips.

"Well, well… would you look at that."

He whistled lowly, impressed by what he saw.

Ravenclaw's formula.

A secret guarded for years.

And now?

Sitting right in front of him.

He leaned forward, reading each detail, every rare herb and alchemical blend that made Ravenclaw's products superior.

Lucian had always wanted a way into the beauty industry. But Ravenclaw crushed all competition with an iron grip.

Now, thanks to the Imperial Princess, the tables had turned.

He tapped his fingers against the parchment, contemplating his next move.

"Interesting," he murmured.

"Very interesting."

Ravenclaw…

Let's see how you handle competition.

Meanwhile – At Ravenclaw Manor

Austin sat in his lounge, sipping wine, utterly at ease.

His golden eyes flickered toward the window as a faint gust of wind stirred the curtains.

He didn't need spies to tell him.

He already knew.

Sonya had taken the bait.

She thought she had won.

But in reality…

She had walked right into his trap.

Austin smirked.

"Let the game begin."

Mira moved through the darkened alleyways, her hood drawn low over her face, the distant sound of the bustling city echoing around her like whispers of unseen phantoms. The glow of lanterns flickered on wet stone as she weaved through the narrow passageways, her expression unreadable, her pace steady but swift. The moment she stepped into the shadow of a dilapidated building, she knocked twice, paused, then knocked three more times in quick succession. The heavy wooden door creaked open just slightly, and a single golden eye gleamed through the narrow crack.

She stepped inside without hesitation.

The air was thick with the scent of parchment, old books, and something metallic—blood. The corridor was dimly lit by flickering torches, casting long, twisting shadows against the stone walls, the kind of shadows that seemed to move on their own. She descended the spiral staircase leading underground, her footsteps muffled by the thick velvet rug beneath her boots.

At the bottom, there was a single ornate door, carved with ancient symbols that only a handful of scholars could decipher. It creaked open with an eerie slowness, revealing a vast chamber lit by rows of crystal lamps hanging from the ceiling.

There, in the center of the room, sitting at a large wooden table filled with maps, documents, and coded letters, was he.

His silver hair was pulled back loosely, his gloved fingers turning the pages of an old tome with an air of casual boredom. He wore a long, dark coat that fell around him like a cloak of shadows, his golden eyes shimmering in the dim light as he lazily glanced up at her. He was beautiful in a way that was cold and distant, like an unapproachable deity observing the world with quiet amusement.

Mira's lips parted, but she did not speak immediately. She stepped forward, knelt, and bowed her head.

"Your Highness," she said, her voice steady. "The princess has made her move."

For a moment, there was silence.

Then, a chuckle.

Low. Amused. Unbothered.

He leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming lightly against the armrest as he tilted his head at her.

"Sonya… making her move, is she?" His voice was smooth, deep, laced with something unreadable. "Tell me, Mira. What exactly does she intend to do?"

Mira lifted her head, her dark eyes sharp and calculating. "She has begun laying the foundations of a business empire. She intends to rival the Ravenclaws. She believes she can bring Austin to his knees by crippling his economic foothold."

The prince raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his golden gaze.

"Oh?" He smirked. "And how does she plan to do that?"

"She is attempting to gain control over the beauty market," Mira continued. "She sought out the merchants of Julius and proposed a business deal. They were hesitant at first, fearing Ravenclaw's influence, but she convinced them. She now has access to a manufacturing base and intends to distribute her line of beauty products. Her goal is to undermine Austin's monopoly on the market."

For a brief moment, he said nothing. Then, a slow, knowing smile crept across his lips, his gloved fingers pressing together.

"How bold," he mused, his voice like velvet. "How foolish."

Mira hesitated. "Your Highness… do you not wish to intervene?"

The prince exhaled softly, rising from his chair with a grace so effortless it was almost unnatural. He strode toward a large map pinned to the wall, his fingers brushing lightly over the empire's borders, tracing invisible lines of influence, control, and power.

"Intervene?" he repeated, as if tasting the word. He turned his golden gaze back to her. "No, Mira. I will do nothing."

Mira frowned, the smallest flicker of uncertainty appearing in her eyes. "Nothing?"

He smiled, slow and deliberate. "For now, we watch. We let her believe she is winning. Let her rise, let her taste power." His voice grew softer, darker. "Because the higher she climbs, the harder she will fall."

Mira's brows furrowed slightly. "And if she becomes too strong?"

The prince turned fully to face her now, his hands slipping behind his back, his golden eyes gleaming with something cold, something dangerous.

"Then…" he said, stepping closer until he was just a breath away from her, his voice dipping into a whisper. "I will remind her that even the brightest light cannot escape the shadows."

Mira swallowed.

For years, she had served him. For years, she had witnessed his mind weave intricate webs of deception, his patience stretching endlessly, his ability to manipulate events unseen by the world unparalleled. But even now, even after all this time, she could not predict what lay behind those golden eyes.

She took a slow breath, stepping back.

"I will continue to monitor her movements."

The prince merely nodded, turning his attention back to the map. "Good."

She hesitated one last time. "Your Highness… do you believe she will realize it?"

He tilted his head slightly. "Realize what?"

"That she is only playing the role you wrote for her."

The prince chuckled again, this time lower, softer.

"No, Mira. She will not."

He reached for his glass of dark wine, lifting it to his lips, smirking against the rim as he spoke his final words.

"Not until it's too late."

Mira's footsteps faded into the distance, the old wooden door creaking shut behind her. The chamber was left in eerie silence for only a few moments before the air itself seemed to shift. From the shadows of the dimly lit room, a figure emerged, his presence as unnatural as the darkness he stepped from. Cloaked in deep black, his face obscured by a mask etched with ancient markings, the assassin knelt before the prince, his voice barely a whisper.

"Shall I silence the maid, sire?"

The words were spoken without emotion, a mere statement of intent. A simple order, and Mira would cease to exist.

The prince, still standing by the vast map on the wall, did not immediately respond. Instead, he swirled the dark wine in his glass, golden eyes watching the liquid move like slow, thick blood. Then, finally, he let out a low hum of amusement, turning slightly to glance at the masked assassin.

"No."

The assassin remained still, waiting.

"It's not necessary," the prince continued, setting his glass down on the table. "Mira is useful, in her own way. If she begins to move beyond her place, then we shall consider it. But for now, let her believe she serves me by her own will."

The assassin did not question further, merely lowering his head in understanding.

The prince turned back to the map, tracing his fingers across its surface, his eyes flickering over various marked locations.

"Eldest brother is still in the castle, playing his political games." His voice was calm, detached, as though speaking of a mere nuisance rather than a contender for the throne. "My sister, in her foolish ambition, seeks to challenge the Ravenclaws, hoping to build even a fraction of her influence. But in the end…" His fingers paused over the royal palace, tapping lightly. "The power of the throne will come to me."

The assassin remained silent, waiting for further instructions.

Then, the prince's gaze shifted, as though recalling something of greater significance. "What about the Sultan of Amin?"

The masked figure straightened slightly, his voice measured. "The Sultan has agreed to an audience, but he remains wary. His spies have been tracking your movements, though none have uncovered anything substantial."

A faint smile curled at the prince's lips. "Let them try."

"Shall I deal with the spies?"

The prince shook his head. "No. The Sultan's paranoia is useful to us. If he believes I am hiding something, he will hesitate, and hesitation breeds opportunity. Have our agents feed him fragments of information—enough to keep him intrigued, but not enough to give him certainty."

The assassin nodded, already planning how to execute the command with precision.

The prince exhaled softly, turning from the map entirely now, his eyes gleaming with cold amusement.

"Sonya may believe she is fighting a battle against Ravenclaw, but she does not understand the real war. Let her gather her allies. Let her struggle. It will only make her fall more satisfying."

A pause.

Then, a final smirk.

"After all… what is a queen without a king to bring her to her knees?"

The prince reclined in his chair, swirling the deep crimson wine in his glass. His golden eyes flickered in the dim candlelight, his expression unreadable, calculating. The chamber was silent, save for the faint crackling of the fireplace, casting long, flickering shadows against the stone walls. The scent of aged parchment, burning incense, and fine liquor lingered in the air. A single candle flickered upon the polished mahogany table, illuminating a detailed map spread out before him.

The assassin, cloaked in black, remained kneeling a few steps away, his presence nearly blending with the darkness that clung to the edges of the room. He was a man of few words, his patience unshakable as he awaited further commands. He had served the prince for years, lurking in the unseen corners of the empire, moving as a whisper, eliminating threats before they could manifest into problems.

"What shall we do with the Ravenclaws?"

The question was posed with careful neutrality, but the prince could hear the underlying currents beneath the words. There were always those in the shadows, waiting for him to act, to strike, to claim dominance over those who foolishly thought themselves his equals. But patience was his greatest weapon. Impulsiveness was the folly of lesser men.

He exhaled slowly, placing the glass down with deliberate precision.

"We do nothing."

A pause followed his words. The assassin tilted his head slightly, awaiting elaboration. The prince smirked, his fingers intertwining as he leaned forward.

"The Ravenclaws are a force to be reckoned with. They hold significant influence in both the underworld and the noble courts. Even with their history tainted by the ambitions of that wretched woman, Austin Ravenclaw has managed to rise above his lineage, proving himself far more controlled than his predecessors."

His voice was smooth, confident, each word laced with meaning. The assassin remained still, absorbing every syllable.

"He swears loyalty to the throne, and for now, that is enough. Whether his loyalty is genuine or feigned matters little. The moment he falters, the moment he dares step beyond his designated place…" The prince's smirk widened, though there was no warmth in it. "I will take the opportunity and remove him from the board."

His fingers drummed lightly against the table. A long moment of silence stretched between them before he shifted the conversation.

"What of the orb?"

The assassin, who had remained expressionless, finally showed the slightest hint of hesitation.

"We've confirmed the map's location, my prince. The artifact was given to Austin Ravenclaw."

Silence.

The prince's golden eyes darkened. His fingers stilled. The weight of the revelation settled over him like a shadow stretching across the land before a storm. He had anticipated many outcomes, prepared for several possibilities, but this… this changed things.

Austin Ravenclaw possessing the orb meant he had access to power—true power, ancient and formidable. Power that should have never fallen into the hands of any noble, much less one with his level of influence.

His smirk returned, slower this time, more measured.

"How… interesting."

He picked up his glass, taking a slow sip as he allowed his thoughts to wander. Ravenclaw was dangerous, but this did not make him invincible. If anything, it made him an even more tempting target. There were forces far greater than nobles and royals at play, forces that even the throne could not control entirely.

"Let the Abyssals deal with him."

The assassin finally stirred. "Shall I inform them of your will, my prince?"

The prince exhaled through his nose, his smirk deepening as he tilted his head slightly.

"Tell them the prince has given his blessing to move. Austin Ravenclaw has been graced with the right to struggle, to fight, to prove his worth." He traced the rim of his glass with a gloved finger, voice dropping to a whisper. "And if he fails… then we will see what remains of him when the Abyss gazes back."

The assassin did not hesitate. He bowed deeply before vanishing into the darkness, as if he had never been there at all.

The prince remained seated, silent, still. The candlelight flickered, casting shifting patterns across the map in front of him. His fingers drummed against the wood once more, a rhythmic, almost hypnotic pattern.

Austin Ravenclaw.

A man who had always been a problem, but now he had become a threat. The prince had no intention of dealing with him—not yet. That was not how the game was played.

No, first, he would let the Abyssals test him. Let them push him to his limits. Let them force him to reveal his true capabilities.

And then…

Then, when the time was right, the prince would make his move.

Mira walked through the damp streets, her boots barely making a sound against the cobblestone. The flickering lanterns cast long, wavering shadows as the cool night air carried the scent of the city—smoke, spices, and the faint metallic tang of blood from the darker corners where people whispered and schemes brewed.

Her mind was occupied, her usually sharp focus dulled by the weight of the realization she had just come upon. The third prince…

She had served many before—lords, nobles, merchants, even warlords who thought themselves untouchable-but—but the third prince was different. He was a shadow, a specter that moved in silence, his presence felt rather than seen.

"He is far more dangerous than anyone I have ever served."

It wasn't just his power that made him terrifying; it was his patience. The first prince played politics in the castle, constantly making moves and counter-moves to secure his claim. The second prince was a fool, reveling in luxury, easily controlled by those who knew how to manipulate his vices. But the third prince? He played a different game entirely.

Despite living far from the capital, his influence stretched like an unseen hand, fingers wrapping around places where no royal should have power. He had informants in every noble house, agents in every underworld faction. Even the church, the military, and the foreign courts had whispers of his name. Yet, to the public, he was barely a prince at all—forgotten, overlooked, unimportant.

That was what made him the most dangerous.

Mira clutched her cloak tighter around her shoulders as she turned a corner, her thoughts racing.

"He knew about Sonya. He knew about Austin. He knew about the orb."

The realization sent a chill down her spine. If he knew all of this, how much more was he aware of? How much did he already plan for? The way he spoke, the way he moved his pieces—it was as if he had already calculated every possible move before anyone else had even started playing the game.

Mira was not a fool. She had survived this long by understanding power, by aligning herself with those who held it. But now, she felt like she had stepped onto a board where the rules were written long before she had even entered the game.

She needed to be careful.

Mira's Own Agendas

As she continued walking, her mind shifted to her own ambitions. She had served many masters, but she had never been a mere pawn. Every action she took was for her gain, her survival.

The princess, Sonya, was clever but reckless. She wanted to bring down the Ravenclaws, to take control of the underground market, but she was walking into a war without understanding the battlefield.

Austin Ravenclaw was powerful, far more than the princess realized. His reach was deep, and his resources were vast. He did not rule simply because of his family's legacy—he ruled because he was ruthless, intelligent, and had something that no one else did.

And then there was the third prince.

He was not reckless like Sonya. He was not arrogant like the other nobles. He was calculating. Every word, every action, was part of a grander scheme. Even the Abyssals moved at his command. That was not something to take lightly.

Mira clenched her jaw.

She needed to tread carefully.

The princess believed she was using Mira as an informant, but the truth was, Mira had her plans. She had spent years climbing the ranks, learning secrets, ensuring that when the time came, she would not be caught between two warring factions with nothing to show for it.

"If I play my cards right, I could use this chaos to secure my power."

She had already planted seeds of influence in the noble circles, the merchant guilds, and even the underworld. But now, she needed to decide where to place her final bet.

Austin?

Sonya?

The third prince?

Or…

Herself?

The thought lingered in her mind, tempting her.

She was tired of serving others, tired of waiting in the shadows while men played their games. Perhaps it was time for a change.

Perhaps it was time for Mira to stop serving and start ruling.

It took MIira nearly an hour to reach the hidden location where she knew Ana would be. A rundown building in the lower district, one that blended perfectly into the filth of the city's underbelly.

She knocked on the wooden door in a specific pattern—three short taps, a pause, then two more.

There was silence.

Then, a faint shuffling sound. The door creaked open slightly, and sharp green eyes peered through the gap.

"I was wondering when you'd come," Ana said, her voice smooth as silk but carrying the weight of hidden knowledge.

Mira pushed inside quickly, locking the door behind her. The dim candlelight flickered against the wooden walls, casting elongated shadows that seemed to dance around them.

Ana sat down at a small wooden table, sipping from a cup of dark wine. She was dressed simply—nothing extravagant, nothing that would draw attention. Yet, there was an air about her, a presence that made it clear she was not a woman to be underestimated.

"You're in a hurry. That means something bad has happened," Ana observed, placing her cup down gently. "Speak."

Mira exhaled, trying to steady herself.

"The third prince has given the Abyssals his blessing to move against Austin," she said, watching Ana carefully for any reaction.

"Damn it," she muttered, pushing off the wall, her expression hardening.

Mira watched her carefully. "You knew this would happen?"

Ana exhaled, rubbing her temple. "Not exactly. But I had a feeling things would escalate. The moment Austin got involved with that damned orb, the royals started paying attention. The third prince is dangerous. He won't move openly—he'll let others do the dirty work first."

Mira hesitated for a moment before asking, "Ana… why are you doing this?"

Ana blinked. "What?"

Mira clenched her fists. "You don't owe Austin anything. You're not a soldier, not a spy, not someone who stands to gain much from this. So why are you helping him?"

For a long moment, there was silence. Then Ana let out a quiet, almost bitter laugh.

"Why do you think?" she murmured, her voice softer now. "I could say it's because it benefits me. That it's a smart political move. But the truth?" She shook her head, her gaze distant. "Austin Ravenclaw is different. He's not just another noble clawing for power. He's not playing the same game they are. He's fighting for something bigger. And for some stupid reason, I can't seem to walk away from that."

Mira stared at her. "You mean you…"

Ana shot her a look. "Don't overthink it, Mira. I'm just saying—I trust him. More than I've trusted anyone in a long time."

Mira leaned against the cold stone wall, her arms crossed, watching Ana with sharp, calculating eyes. The air between them was thick with unspoken tension.

"You may be a witch, Ana," Mira said, her voice low but firm, "but you're playing a dangerous game. Helping Ravenclaw and going against the third prince? That's not just reckless—it's suicidal."

Ana, unfazed by the warning, smirked as she folded her arms. "And here I thought you enjoyed a bit of danger, Mira."

Mira narrowed her eyes. "This isn't a joke. You should back down while you still can. The third prince isn't someone you want as an enemy."

Ana tilted her head slightly, her gaze unwavering. "And yet, here we are. You're warning me, but you're still here, standing beside me. Which means you're just as deep in this as I am."

Ana's smirk softened into something unreadable. "I already told you. I trust Austin."

Mira shook her head. "Trust isn't enough. You think the third prince is just going to let this slide? The moment he realizes what you're doing, he'll move against you. And when that happens, don't expect Ravenclaw to be able to save you in time."

Ana's expression darkened slightly, but there was still a spark of amusement in her eyes. "Do you think I don't know that? I knew the risks the moment I decided to do this. But I also know that standing by and doing nothing is worse."

Mira clenched her fists. "You're a damn fool."

Ana chuckled. "Maybe. But at least I'm a fool who chooses her battles."

Mira exhaled sharply and turned away. "Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you." She paused for a moment before adding, "If you get in too deep, don't expect me to come running to save you."

Ana's smirk returned, but there was something softer in her expression. "We'll see about that."

As Mira walked away, her thoughts were a storm of conflicting emotions. Ana was playing with fire, and the flames were getting closer.

But despite everything… Mira couldn't shake the feeling that Ana wasn't the only one caught in a dangerous game.