POV: Chris Blackwood —
The night had fallen deeper, and the sounds of the festival were now just distant echoes. In the glow of the lanterns, I wandered through the crowded streets, my mind focused on the task at hand. The Blackwood Empire was in its full splendor—shimmering lights, lavish performances, and millions of citizens and visitors celebrating under the reign of my family. But behind that facade, I had a different plan.
Tonight, I wasn't the God of the Empire. I wasn't Chris Blackwood—the ruler of nations, the father, the power behind it all. No, tonight, I was something different. I was a beggar. A nobody.
I had disguised myself—ragged clothes, dirt smeared across my face, and a shabby cloak covering my form. No one would suspect that beneath all this grime, I was the very person who controlled everything. The streets were bustling with people too drunk on their own celebrations to notice the small details. Perfect for what I was about to do.
I slipped into the nearest market, weaving between the stalls and shops. The vendors were too distracted, too caught up in the evening's festivities to pay attention to a dirty beggar like me. They didn't care. They were busy making money, celebrating wealth and status. It was exactly what I needed.
As I moved through the crowd, I eyed the stall of an old merchant selling gold trinkets—beautiful but simple, things that could easily be pocketed without notice. I leaned in close, pretending to examine the wares, then swiftly grabbed a small pouch of gold coins.
I turned and dashed down an alley, my heart racing. My breathing was fast, sharp—but I had to stay calm. I had to keep my cool.
I thought I was home free, but the sound of footsteps grew louder. Someone had noticed. Or maybe they were simply more vigilant than the others. The B.A.M—Blackwood Axe Men—had noticed me. They were the empire's most loyal, most ruthless force, and they weren't easily fooled.
Before I knew it, a hand grabbed my shoulder, and I was spun around to face the cold, stern face of one of the guards. He didn't speak at first—he just stared at me, calculating, as if trying to decide whether or not he should laugh at my disguise.
I kept my head down, doing my best to mimic the tremble of a beggar caught in the act. "P-please, don't," I stammered, my voice quivering with what I hoped sounded like desperation.
But the guard wasn't buying it. His eyes narrowed. He stepped closer, grabbing me by the arm and lifting me off the ground as though I weighed nothing. "You've got a lot of nerve," he said coldly.
I could feel the pouch of coins burning against my skin, a silent reminder that I needed to keep my act up. If I revealed who I really was now, I would risk everything—the empire, my family's trust, and my very existence. So, I kept up the charade, stumbling and begging for mercy.
"I-I wasn't… I wasn't trying to steal," I whimpered, looking up at him with wide eyes. "I'm just… I'm just hungry, sir. Please, spare me…"
The guard didn't release me, and his grip tightened. "Hungry, huh?" he said. "Then why don't you tell me what you're really after? Money, jewels? You're no beggar. You're a thief."
I swallowed hard. The jig was up, but I couldn't break character now. I could feel the pressure of the situation mounting—if I revealed who I was, this would all be over. But if I kept playing this part, I had a chance to slip away unnoticed.
"You don't understand… please, I'm just trying to survive," I said, my voice cracking as I tried to sound as pitiful as possible.
The guard eyed me suspiciously for a moment, clearly torn between his duty and the urge to call for backup. But, ultimately, he made his decision. "You're coming with me. And we'll see if you're still hungry when we're done."
As he dragged me through the streets, I kept my head low, my heart pounding in my chest. I couldn't let this turn into a bigger mess. I had to maintain the facade just a little longer.
We reached a nearby B.A.M station, where several guards stood watch. They looked at me with interest, probably wondering how a beggar had gotten so far into the empire's heart without drawing attention. The guard who'd caught me handed me off to them, still not entirely convinced of my identity.
"I caught this one trying to steal from the merchant stalls," the guard explained. "Take him in for questioning."
"Stealing, huh?" one of the other B.A.M soldiers muttered, his tone skeptical. "Seems like a poor beggar to me. Not exactly the type to pull off a heist."
I kept my head down, staying as still as possible, hoping they wouldn't realize who I really was. Then, one of the B.A.M soldiers stepped forward, a senior officer by the looks of his uniform. He looked me over carefully, then gave a slight smirk.
"You think we can't tell?" the officer asked, a glimmer of recognition in his eyes. "You might be wearing rags, but you're not fooling anyone. You're not some common beggar."
My heart skipped a beat.
For the first time, I saw the recognition in his eyes, the hint of suspicion that began to grow into something more. He was starting to piece things together.
I held my breath. This could be it. I might have been caught. My empire. My identity. All of it—gone.
But instead of confronting me, the officer merely chuckled and shook his head. "Take him to the interrogation room. We'll see if he cracks."
They led me away, and I was thrown into a cold, dimly lit room with nothing but a single chair. The B.A.M soldiers left me there to stew, probably watching through cameras as I sat in silence, trying to keep the panic at bay.
I could feel the pouch of coins in my pocket—everything hinged on my next move. And I wasn't about to let this little mistake be the end of me.
One thing was for sure: the game had just begun.