Earlier that morning, while the sun still fought to rise over the misty rooftops of the royal district, a young human maid entered the Crown Prince's mansion through the back servant gate. She was average in every way—plain brown hair tucked beneath a bonnet, soft features, eyes cast downward in submission. She carried a basket of fine towels and fresh linen. No one gave her a second look.
No one knew she was not a maid at all.
It was Ivan.
Using the Morph spell granted by his system, he had disguised himself perfectly. He even altered his scent and mannerisms, spending hours studying how the palace maids walked, how they spoke, how they folded their hands. He had prepared for this.
The guards nodded lazily as he passed. He bowed in return, meek and compliant. Then, silently, he made his way through the marble halls, climbing to the upper level, where the Crown Prince's chambers lay.
Timing was everything. The prince had taken a private breakfast with his father, the Emperor, giving Ivan a twenty-minute window to slip in.
Inside, the room was lavish. Walls of sapphire blue and silver trim, silk curtains draped over windows, books of forbidden magic stacked beside gold-framed mirrors. But Ivan didn't marvel. He moved quickly.
He opened a small black pouch hidden within the folds of his linen basket. Inside was a delicate silver locket—beastfolk craftsmanship, etched with tiny claw marks along the edge. Its hinge was smeared with dried blood.
Princess Ysil's blood. She had died months ago, by Ivan's hand, during one of his secret raids into some jerk that he already killed. It had been quick, necessary. Her body was never recovered. But Ivan kept the locket.
And now, it served its final purpose.
He placed it carefully on the prince's desk, angled just right to catch the moonlight that would pour through the window later that night.
Then he left, folding the sheets as if nothing had happened.
Now, under that same moonlight, Ivan moved through the mansion again—this time as himself, not a maid.
Beside him, Reeva and Kahl padded silently through the corridors. Every room they passed was a haunting display of wealth—tapestries woven with gold thread, chandeliers dripping with enchanted crystals, floors polished so finely that the trio's reflections glared up at them.
They had searched everything: forests where slavers were rumored to roam, caves that once housed old smugglers, noble estates known for shady dealings. They even tracked down and broke into an illegal prison near the southern docks, freeing several beastfolk who had been chained inside.
But not the princess.
This mansion was their final location. The final stop. If they found nothing here, then all leads would vanish. Ivan made sure of that.
They entered the prince's chambers without a sound. Ivan had already disabled the nearest magical alarm, knowing the layout by heart after his morning infiltration.
Reeva's eyes scanned the room. Kahl sniffed the air, nose twitching. Then Ivan stepped forward.
He went to the desk—the same desk where he had left the planted evidence.
"There," he whispered.
Reeva stepped closer. Her breath caught in her throat.
"That… that's hers," she gasped. "That's Ysil's locket! His Father gave it to her when we were children. Her fur was still white..."
Kahl took the locket from Ivan's hand, his claws trembling. The faint scent of blood reached his nose. His body began to shake, rage and sorrow mixing in his chest like a storm.
"That bastard," he growled. "He took her. And he dared keep this as a trophy?"
Reeva turned, her eyes glowing with fury. "We should end him now. Take his head before he lays hands on another beastfolk."
Ivan held up a hand. "No."
They both turned to him, eyes wide.
"This is the Crown Prince," Ivan said, voice low and commanding. "If you strike now, the Empire will cry foul. You'll be hunted, declared rebels. And the princess will become a mere footnote in history."
Reeva clenched her fists. "Then what? We wait? Let him parade as a saint?"
"No," Ivan said. "We use this. The mission is still sanctioned by the Empire. We bring this evidence to the right people, make them question their golden heir. We let the rumor spread, the doubt take root. Then the Empire will tear itself apart from within."
Kahl looked torn. "You really believe that will work?"
Ivan stepped forward, his eyes hard as steel. "They believe in order, in honor, in appearances. We shatter the illusion. And when the truth bleeds out, every noble, every citizen will doubt the one they once praised."
Reeva nodded slowly. "We'll make them choke on their lies."
Kahl returned the locket to Ivan. "Let's go."
As they left the mansion, slipping once more into the night, none of them noticed the faint smirk that tugged at Ivan's lips.
Everything was going according to plan.