Chapter 24 – Pieces on the Board

The city never truly slept.

Even at this hour—deep into the night, when even the taverns had quieted and the cobbled streets lay empty—there was movement. A flicker of light in an upper window. The distant clink of armor in an alley. Whispers that only rats and secrets heard.

Lucien moved through it like a ghost.

His boots barely made a sound as he slipped between buildings, cloak drawn tight around his lean frame. He wasn't just heading somewhere—he was hunting. Not for blood, not yet, but for information. And information, he had learned, was a blade sharper than any sword.

The building he approached looked abandoned. Windows boarded, door hanging loose. But the faint light beneath the cracks said otherwise.

He knocked once. Then twice.

The door opened halfway, and a narrow eye peered through the gap. "You're late."

Lucien smiled. "You're lucky I came at all."

The man grumbled but let him in. Inside, the room reeked of sweat and old wood. A handful of men were gathered around a table, playing cards and pretending not to notice him.

Lucien walked straight past them and sat at the edge of the room, where a larger figure leaned against the wall.

"You got my message?" Lucien asked.

The man grunted. "We did. Still don't know why the hell you think we'd risk our necks for you."

"Because I can offer you something no one else can," Lucien said calmly. "Freedom."

That word always worked. Especially on men who lived with collars they couldn't see.

The man chuckled. "Big promise from someone barely old enough to shave."

Lucien leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. "The Church runs this city, doesn't it? They own the guards. The taxes. The food. You bleed while they feast. You work while they pray for power they already stole."

"And?"

"I plan to change that."

The room went quiet.

Lucien didn't raise his voice. He didn't shout or boast. He just looked at them with calm, steady eyes—the kind that made people nervous because they couldn't tell what he was hiding.

"I don't want your loyalty," he continued. "I want your usefulness. You help me, and when the Church falls… you'll be standing at the top of the ashes."

One of the card players scoffed. "You really think you can bring down them? The Inquisition? The Bishop?"

Lucien's smile sharpened. "I don't think. I know."

No one spoke for a while. Then the big man nodded slowly. "We'll listen. For now."

Lucien stood. "That's all I need."

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Outside, the rain had stopped. The streets glistened under the moonlight, puddles like mirrors reflecting a sky full of secrets.

Lucien didn't hurry. He had no need to. Tonight wasn't about making progress. It was about setting foundations.

He walked alone, hands in his pockets, and whispered softly to himself, as if telling a story only the shadows were allowed to hear.

"One by one, they'll follow. Not out of love. Not out of faith. But because I offer them a chance no one else will."

And behind that calm voice was something colder. Something patient.

He was still the boy with nothing—but soon, he'd be the man with everything.

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