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Chapter 58: Checkmate
Chapter 58: Checkmate
The moon hung high, casting pale light through the stained-glass windows of the council chamber. Candles flickered on the long oak table, their glow dancing across the anxious faces of the assembled nobles and merchants.
They sat in uneasy silence, their hands tightening around goblets of wine or resting on the hilts of concealed daggers.
One chair remained empty.
Bastian Rhell’s.
The door creaked open.
Soft footsteps.
Then—a voice from the shadows.
"Well, well… I do love a good game."
The room froze.
From the darkness, Seraphis stepped forward, calm, confident, deadly. She wasn’t wearing a cloak this time—no disguise, no deception. She wanted them to see her.
Her white hair glowed in the dim candlelight as she walked toward the center of the table.
A chessboard sat before them, the pieces arranged mid-game.
Seraphis plucked the black queen between her fingers. Balanced it. Twisted it.
Then—she dropped it.
It clattered against the board, spinning before finally falling over with a dull thud.
"You said you wanted to play," she mused, reaching into her pocket.
A flash of silver.
She flicked a metal playing card onto the table.
It buried itself in the wood—dead center.
"Checkmate."
The nobles flinched. Some clutched their seats. One man—a merchant with trembling fingers—tried to stand.
Seraphis tilted her head.
"I wouldn't do that."
His breath hitched. He slowly sank back down.
Her eyes swept across the room.
"Where is Bastian?"
Silence.
No one answered.
Seraphis sighed.
"See, I was hoping we could do this the easy way." She pulled another metal card from her coat, rolling it between her fingers. "But I don’t mind the hard way, either."
A noble—Duke Alveron—cleared his throat.
"Bastian... didn’t come tonight." His voice was steady, but his hands betrayed him. Tense. Uncertain. "We don’t know where he is."
Seraphis smiled.
"You don’t? Hm." She tapped the playing card against the table. "That’s strange, because I do know where he is."
Another pause.
Then—Duke Alveron swallowed.
"...Where?"
Seraphis leaned forward.
"He's dead."
A sharp intake of breath.
She continued, voice smooth as silk.
"I followed him after your little gathering last night. He was careless. Sloppy. Left alone for just a moment." She lifted a hand and snapped her fingers. "And then? Well... let's just say he won’t be making it to our next game."
The room shifted. Nobles whispered, glancing at each other. Uneasy.
One woman—Lady Calla—spoke up.
"What do you want?"
Seraphis grinned.
"Simple." She spread her arms. "I want this little rebellion to end before it begins. You all thought you could play both sides—undermine the Queen while keeping your hands clean." She chuckled. "But you underestimated me. And that was your first mistake."
She flicked her wrist.
The chessboard flipped, scattering pieces across the table.
"There won’t be another game."
She turned to leave, but stopped at the door.
"Oh, and one more thing." She looked over her shoulder.
"If I get another one of those letters, I'll be delivering my response personally. And trust me…" She smiled, a predator’s smile.
"You won’t like it."
Then—she was gone.