Chương 3: Through The Castle Gates

Five years passed. Lira turned eighteen in the back room of a soup kitchen that served as her counterfeit registrar's office. She sometimes wondered if her father would be ashamed of what she had become. He was a good man who believed in honest work, yet even he would deal in illegal documents if it was the path of least resistance. She looked at the drawer where the ledger, filled with translations from a forbidden script, was still hidden.

Lira pressed the seal into warm wax and held it there a moment longer than necessary, watching it take shape. When she lifted it, she was slightly amazed at how well it turned out: the crest of the late Lord Atropos, the grand steward of the royal castle, the right hand of King Argon. It was flawless. Perfectly indistinguishable from the real thing. She leaned back in her chair, letting the document dry as she reviewed the details one last time, not as a reader, but as an investigator searching for flaws.

The claim was simple. A certain John Sullavent, illegitimate child of the disgraced Lady Catherin Berthrum and an unnamed father, now "revealed" to be the late Lord Atropos himself. A quiet affair, long buried, and now inconveniently unearthed. The document would grant the young man legitimacy enough to claim a modest inheritance of fifty gold coins. Modest was the key. Too large, and the true heirs would contest it. Too small, and the effort wouldn't be worth the risk. Fifty sat in that perfect space.

To John Sullavent, it was a fortune. To Lord Atropos' real children, it was less than a rounding error. A drop lost in an ocean of wealth. It was certainly cheaper than the scandal they would face if they contested it, and no one wanted to dig up their dead's secrets. Especially when illegitimate children were involved. And just like that, another life was rewritten. With a little bit of wax, a little bit of ink, and a lot of understanding of nobles' greed. A soft knock broke the silence. Lira did not look up.

"You're late." The door opened anyway.

"Late?" Pallan Matrius stepped inside, brushing dust from his coat as if he owned the place. Well, technically, he did.

"Young lady, you work for me. Remember?" He smirked. Pallan had taken good care of her these past years. He kept the worst men away and gave her steady work with even steadier pay. She had gathered a respectable nest egg over the past five years, large enough to go legitimate, if she wanted. She remembered her father. And how the law had treated him. No. She was better off in the shadows… it was safer this way. Lira slid the document across the desk toward him.

"Don't smudge it." Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. He picked it up with care. For the leader of a criminal syndicate, Pallan was surprisingly gentle when handling paper. Then again, he was the kind of man who let his men handle violence for him. His eyes moved through the document quickly at first, then slower, then stopped altogether.

"Well," he said at last, exhaling through his nose, "if I didn't know better, I'd say Lord Atropos himself signed this."

"You do know better."

"Yes," he said, still staring at the page.

"You are too good at this." Lira leaned back, folding her arms.

"You say that as if it's a bad thing."

"This is the kind of work that gets remembered."

"I thought this kind of work was too good to get caught."

"That's exactly the problem." He set the document down carefully, then looked at her properly.

"It is when you keep doing the same job." He pulled out a chair and sat without asking.

"Patterns are how people like us get caught."

"Not mistakes. Patterns," he reiterated.

"There's no pattern," Lira frowned.

"We've targeted different houses, different claims, and completely different regions."

"It's the same method," he replied.

"The same invisible hand tying it all together." She said nothing.

"A good investigator could notice a rise in inheritance claimants," Pallan continued, "or a rise in young bastards with too much money to burn. A few wrong words to the wrong ears, and everything collapses overhead." Pallan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"A smart man knows when to quit while he's ahead."

"And what would an even smarter woman do?" Lira asked. He smiled, slow and sharp.

"A smarter woman quits the game entirely and starts playing a better one." That made her pause.

"Are you encouraging me to go honest?" she asked.

"Goddess, no," he said, almost offended.

"I have something else in mind for you," he continued.

"Something cleaner."

"By that, you mean less risk?" she asked.

"Different risk." He shrugged. That meant more risk, then, thought the young scribe. Lira studied him, his tone, his posture, and the way he had not made a single joke since he walked in.

"This is something big, huh?" she asked.

"A new opportunity is knocking. Not on your door, but at the royal castle." He tapped the name of Lord Atropos on the document.

"The head steward of the Royal Castle, the gatekeeper of staffing, holder of most secrets, has just died. Some say poison, others say old age. It doesn't matter. What matters is that the castle is in chaos." Lira's eyes narrowed.

"What does that have to do with me?"

"What if the head steward had hired someone before he died, a new maid, perhaps?" She blinked.

"If you were to show up at the castle gate with a sealed letter in hand, how are they going to turn you away?" He winked.

"You'll blend in. Listen. Watch. And send me what you find." Lira couldn't help but find the plan brilliant. A maid's position in the royal castle was one of the most sought-after roles a common girl could aspire to. Maids were thoroughly vetted and required recommendations and backing from a noble. The pay alone would be higher than what her father made as a scribe. So, for a criminal syndicate to slip in their own agent was unheard of. Lira hesitated.

"And you want me to be that maid? What if I'm caught?"

"What is there to be caught for?" he said, then paused.

"You'll be a maid. Practically invisible. And you'll only send me surface information: who the nobles favor and which are discreet. You've worked long enough with me to know that the information we seek isn't hard to find." The idea settled slowly. Inside the castle, she would have access to a great deal of information. And somewhere within those walls… she could find answers about Lord Kelroth. The man responsible for her father's death. Her hesitation faded. They spent hours refining the plan.

Lira forged letters, references, background records, and identity papers. Every thread needed to weave a life that could withstand scrutiny. And a new name. Lira Tenlan. A quiet orphan from the south, seeking steady work, vouched for by a reclusive old lord who rarely visited the capital. The gates of Castle Elthram, commonly known as the Royal Castle or just the Castle, loomed before her; tall and cold, forged from iron and guarded by a pair of men in ceremonial armor.

She wore her travel clothes, dark wool worn and dusty, as if she had traveled for days rather than minutes. Her orange hair was tied back, her blue eyes lowered in a submissive posture. A guard inspected her papers with mild disinterest, then waved her through a side gate. Lira stepped forward, keeping her satchel close to her side. Beneath folded clothes, hidden in a secret pocket sewn into the lining of her pack, was loose parchment written in her father's hand; inked symbols only a few people could understand.

The truth. The reason Lord Kelroth had her father killed. Her fingers brushed against it through the fabric. A reminder and a promise. She crossed the threshold, lowering her head like any other servant. And stepped into the castle. She was no longer prey. This was the first step toward her vengeance.