"They’re dead?"

Vincent stared down at the three unfamiliar bodies sprawled across the polished stone of the courtyard. He had only bothered to throw a heavy, dark silk robe over his bare shoulders, tying it loosely at the waist.

His hair was still damp, clinging to his neck, and if anything, he looked vastly more irritated by the inconvenience of their deaths than by the attempt on his life itself. 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

Five of his elite guards stood in a rigid semi-circle before him, while Elias remained standing slightly ahead of the others, looking uncharacteristically stressed. He was dressed in a simple fit as well, looking like he had been prepared to head to bed before the catastrophe happened.

"And what am I supposed to do with their corpses?" Vincent asked, his voice sinking to a dangerously low, raspy drawl.

He slowly turned his head and swept his gaze across the five guards.

The entire line of seasoned soldiers flinched in unison, their shoulders drawing taut as though they wished to shrink beneath the sheer force of his displeasure.

"Which one of you killed them?" he demanded.

The five guards immediately exchanged frantic, nervous looks, their eyes darting from one face to another. One of them subtly nudged his comrade by the elbow; the comrade nudged the next man in turn, and everyone silently began pleading for anyone else to take the fall of the Marquis’s black mood.

"Y– Your Lordship," one of the guards finally squeaked, stepping forward half an inch while keeping his eyes glued to Vincent’s feet. "We... we did not kill them, sir. The moment we subdued the enemies and attempted to bring them in for questioning, they took poison capsules and ended their own lives."

"So what were you doing?"

The answer only seemed to stoke the furnace of his agitation. Vincent stepped closer, looming over the line of soldiers like an incoming storm.

"Were you simply standing there and watching them swallow the poison? Why didn’t you stop them?"

He added in a more serious tone, "If they were successfully restrained as you’ve claimed, did they suddenly grow a third hand? What is the true purpose of your training? And where, exactly, am I supposed to release this pent-up frustration now? Logically speaking, I’m left with three useless corpses and no one to beat an explanation out of. Imagine being useless not once but twice."

The guards looked like they wanted nothing more than for the ground to split open and swallow them whole. Elias cleared his throat loudly, trying to draw his master’s terrifying focus away from the terrified men.

"My Lord," Elias began carefully, keeping his eyes strictly fixed above Vincent’s chest level. "We have already secured the perimeter. The black powder they used to breach the lower courtyard gates was of foreign manufacture. If...if we examine the bodies, we might find a crest or–"

"What use is their crest to me?" Vincent frowned. The sheer, physical agony of having his moment with Penelope ripped away from him was making his blood boil. He wanted to ruin something. He needed to destroy something.

"I want a living target."

Behind Elias, two of the guards were silently playing a high-stakes game of rock-paper-scissors with their fingers behind their backs, trying to decide which one of them would have to deal with the Marquis’s temper while the others picked up the poisoned corpses.

"What are you waiting for then," Vincent said to the guards. "Search the bodies. That should have been the first thing you did before dragging their rotten carcasses to my doorstep. Must I tell you how to breathe as well?"

Despite the fact that he hadn’t raised his voice, the pure, unadulterated venom in his tone was enough to spark an immediate panic.

The guards scrambled, practically tripping over their own boots as they dropped to their knees beside the corpses. The two who had been playing rock-paper-scissors earlier immediately began ripping through the assassins’ pockets with frantic efficiency,worried that a second of hesitation might result in them taking the assassins’ place.

While the guards frantically rifled through their cloaks, Elias remained still, his brows furrowed in a deep, troubled line.

The enemies had taken their own lives the exact second they were compromised. They hadn’t begged, they hadn’t bartered, they hadn’t tried to fight their way out. They had simply swallowed the capsules to escape revealing the name of whoever sent them.

The cold calculation of it was deeply concerning. To force men to take such a final, horrific step just to silence themselves proved one definitive thing: whoever had ordered this strike was no ordinary noble playing a petty court game. This could only, plausibly, be the work of someone with absolute authority, someone whose wrath the assassins feared more than death itself.

"My Lord," Elias murmured, stepping closer as the guards laid out the meager belongings of the dead men on the stone floor. "To deploy black powder inside the capital, and to use zealots willing to swallow poison—"

"The timing can’t be a coincidence," Vincent interjected, his voice flat as he stared past the corpses, his mind clicking the pieces into place. "My wife recently requested my help with a specific matter, and suddenly assassins breach my home. I doubt that this attack was aimed at me."

Elias blinked, his mind racing to catch up with the implication. "You believe they were targeting the Marchioness? But black powder is heavily regulated, and it is a foreign commodity. Whoever supplied this has deep connections to the black market, or perhaps, the foreign trade itself."

"They do, don’t they?" Vincent’s eyes narrowed into a dangerous slit.

At this point, Elias could not guess what his master was thinking. The Marquis’s face had completely transformed from the petty, frustrated mask from moments ago into the terrifyingly blank visage of a commander preparing a siege.

"An assassination attempt on a Marquis or a spouse is considered high treason by imperial law," Elias pressed, trying to steer the conversation back to standard protocol. "If we report this to the king immediately, the royal guards will be forced to launch a thorough investigation into every noblehouse tied to foreign trade. We could trap whoever did this."

Vincent crossed his arms over his chest, a cold, mocking smirk playing at the edge of his lips. "Assassins are capable of hiding their identities, Elias, but military-grade weapons cannot. The trail is already there for those who know how to hunt, we just have to be silent about it. Tell me this, why should we bother the king? That only gives our enemy a warning that we are looking for them. It ruins the surprise."

He looked down at the three bodies.

"For now, these corpses are entirely useless to me. Remove them from my doorstep, dump them where they won’t be found, and treat this night like it never happened. Not a word of this leaves this courtyard until I give the orders."

The guards immediately nodded, practically throwing themselves at the bodies to haul them away before Vincent changed his mind and decided to use them as combat practice.

Elias bowed low, understanding the silent command. Vincent wasn’t going to let the law handle this. He still could not understand why his master had so instantly assumed that the attacks were aimed at his wife. He wondered what such a young noblewoman could possibly be involved in that would warrant suicidal zealots in the estate.

He really hoped that the new Lady stepping into his master’s life would not make him far more miserable than he already was. Considering the brutal, solitary life his master has had to put up with for many years, she’ll have to offer more than just her presence.

He bowed as Vincent turned to leave.