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Chapter 65: The Fall of the Financier
Chapter 65: The Fall of the Financier
The night was thick with shadows as Seraphis perched on the rooftop overlooking Lord Alric Montclair’s grand estate. Unlike the war minister, Gavren, who focused on military power, Montclair was the true force behind Shambell’s strength—its financier. Without his money, the king’s war machine would crumble.
Montclair was a man of excess. His estate was lavish, sprawling with gold-trimmed archways, marble pillars, and pristine gardens that felt completely out of place in a kingdom built on blood and suffering. He indulged in luxuries stolen from conquered lands, funding his own pleasures with the wealth siphoned from the oppressed. His influence stretched deep into the underbelly of Shambell, trafficking everything from black-market weapons to slave labor, all in the name of "economic growth."
Seraphis had no interest in simply killing him. No—he needed to be broken, humiliated, his fortune shattered beyond repair. She intended to dismantle his entire operation before ending him.
She leapt down, her boots making no sound against the cobblestone pathway as she slipped through the outer gardens. Guards patrolled the estate, but they were lazy, overconfident in their security. After all, no one had dared challenge Montclair in years.
That changed tonight.
She scaled the estate wall with ease, slipping through a third-floor balcony where heavy velvet curtains swayed in the night breeze. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of wine and expensive perfumes. This was Montclair’s private lounge, a place where he entertained “business partners” and drank himself into a stupor.
And there he was.
A plump man draped in a silk robe, reclining on a couch with a glass of dark red wine. His fingers were adorned with rings, his face red from alcohol. A woman lay unconscious beside him, her body limp—drugged. Disgusting.
Seraphis moved swiftly. Before he even realized he wasn’t alone, she was behind him, pressing the cold edge of a dagger against his throat.
“Hello, Montclair,” she whispered.
He stiffened. His fingers twitched, but he was too drunk to react fast enough.
“W-Who—”
She tightened her grip, pulling his head back slightly. “Let’s skip the part where you beg,” she said coolly. “We both know what kind of man you are.”
His breathing was heavy, panicked. She could feel his pulse hammering against her blade.
“I-Is it money you want? I—I'll pay you anything!” he stammered.
Seraphis laughed softly. “Oh, Montclair. You misunderstand.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a ledger—the one she had stolen from Gavren’s study earlier that night.
She tossed it onto the table before him. The pages were filled with records of military funding, secret transactions, and more importantly—his own involvement in funding the war.
His face paled. “Where… where did you get that?”
“I have my ways,” she murmured. “And now, so will everyone else.”
She pulled a second item from her cloak—a handful of sealed letters, stamped with Montclair’s personal insignia. “These will be delivered to Shambell’s rivals by morning. I imagine they’ll be quite interested in your little side dealings.”
His hands shook as he reached for the letters, but she pressed the dagger harder against his skin. “Ah, ah,” she warned. “You don’t get to stop this.”
He was trembling now. “Please… you don’t understand. If those letters get out, I’m dead.”
“Exactly.”
And then, she moved.
Before he could scream, she slammed his head against the table, knocking him unconscious. Blood pooled from a cut on his forehead as he slumped forward, his wine glass shattering on the floor.
Seraphis worked quickly. She overturned furniture, smashed wine bottles, and ransacked his safe, making it look like a burglary. She wasn’t just going to ruin his finances—she was going to ruin his reputation.
Then, as a final touch, she placed a single white feather on his chest.
By the time the sun rose, Montclair’s empire would be in ruins. His enemies would descend upon him like vultures, his own allies would turn against him, and his influence would shatter.
And when the chaos finally consumed him…
She would return to finish the job.