Reborn as the Last van Ambrose

The Luminaris estate's private dining room had been transformed for tonight's guests.

Julius Luminaris sat at the head of the table like an emperor holding court, his hair perfectly groomed and his dark outfit emphasizing the authority he had cultivated over decades of political maneuvering.

Around him sat the architects of treason. Men who had traded loyalty for ambition and wrapped their betrayal in patriotic rhetoric.

Lord Castellan occupied the seat to Julius's right, his military bearing evident even in civilian dress clothes. Three decades of service had carved lines into his weathered face, but his eyes remained sharp with the calculating intelligence that had made him indispensable to previous rulers.

Now that same intelligence served rebellion.

Duke Ravencrest sat across from Castellan, his merchant prince attire speaking of wealth accumulated through trade routes that spanned the continent. Gold rings adorned his fingers, and his silk vest strained slightly across a stomach that was fed too much. Money talked in every language, and Ravencrest spoke them all fluently.

General Blackwood commanded the far end of the table, his presence filling the room like a storm cloud. Younger than the others but no less dangerous, he had earned his rank through battlefield victories against elven incursions. His loyalty to the empire had been unquestioned until Julius's gold and promises of greater authority had turned it toward treachery.

And then there was Grim, sitting to Julius's left in the place of honor reserved for their most valuable recruit. Where they wore silk and gold, he wore plain black clothes.

[Look at them,] Caius observed with dark amusement. [Sitting around like generals planning a campaign, when they're actually just ambitious fools about to walk into a trap. This is going to be delicious.]

"Gentlemen," Julius began, his voice carrying the authority of someone accustomed to being obeyed. "Before we begin, let me express my gratitude for Lord Ambrose's decision to join our cause. His reputation and capabilities will be invaluable in the days ahead."

Murmurs of agreement circled the table, though Grim noticed the way General Blackwood studied him with professional assessment. Military men recognized dangerous individuals instinctively, and Blackwood was clearly trying to determine whether Grim represented opportunity or threat.

"The pleasure is mine," Grim replied with perfectly calculated sincerity. "I've grown... frustrated... with the current leadership's approach to imperial governance."

"Frustration shared by all present," Duke Ravencrest said, his merchant's smile not reaching his calculating eyes. "The empress's policies have stifled trade, weakened military response, and allowed enemies like the elves to grow bold."

"Indeed," Lord Castellan added. "Her Majesty's reluctance to use decisive force has created the very problems we now face. Sometimes kingdoms require strong leadership willing to make difficult choices."

[Listen to them justify their treason,] Caius noted. [Every traitor believes himself a patriot. They've convinced themselves they're saving the empire by destroying it.]

"Which brings us to our timeline," Julius said, spreading a detailed map across the table. "The harvest festival provides perfect cover for our operation."

"Coordination will be critical," General Blackwood leaned forward, his professional manner transforming the treasonous discussion into military planning. "My forces must secure the eastern approaches simultaneously with Lord Castellan's movements in the capital."

"Three regiments positioned ready to go," Castellan confirmed.

"And the financial aspects remain secure," Duke Ravencrest added. "Merchant guilds understand that stability requires occasionally refreshing leadership. They're prepared to support transition costs."

Grim listened to their detailed planning with genuine professional interest. Despite being traitors, they had organized their coup with impressive competence. If they weren't planning to betray the woman who had given him everything he possessed, he might have admired their thoroughness.

"Lord Ambrose," Julius said, turning attention to their newest recruit. "Your role will be particularly crucial. The empress trusts you implicitly after your success in Yanyu territory."

"I serve at the empire's pleasure," Grim replied carefully.

"Soon you'll serve at a better empire's pleasure." Julius's smile was cold with anticipation. "When the moment comes, your word will carry enormous weight with both military commanders and palace guards. Your endorsement of necessary change will legitimize our actions."

[He wants you to be the face of their coup,] Caius observed. [The hero who saved the empire endorsing new leadership. Brilliant propaganda, actually.]

"You mentioned specific timeline," Grim said. "What exactly happens during the harvest festival?"

"General Blackwood's forces will secure the palace during the evening ceremonies," Julius explained with obvious satisfaction. "Lord Castellan's regiments will control the capital's key positions. Duke Ravencrest's merchant allies will ensure economic stability during transition."

"And the current leadership?"

"Will be removed..." Julius replied diplomatically. "House arrest for lesser figures, exile for more prominent ones. We're not barbarians, Lord Ambrose. This is political necessity, not personal vendetta."

[Except it absolutely is personal vendetta,] Caius noted. [Julius has hated the imperial family for years. This is revenge wrapped in political rhetoric.]

"What about General Morrison?" Grim asked, probing for details about the murder plot Mira had revealed.

"A loyal servant of the current regime," General Blackwood said with obvious distaste. "Unfortunately, his continued presence would complicate our efforts to establish new military leadership."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning accidents happen during political transitions," Julius said with casual brutality. "Particularly to those who might organize resistance to necessary change."

There it was. Confirmation of their plan to murder one of the empire's most competent generals. Grim felt cold anger building beneath his composed facade, but kept his expression neutral.

"I understand the necessity," he said, though the words tasted like rat poison.

"I knew you would." Julius's satisfaction was radiating from every pore. "A man who has killed over four hundred enemies understands that sometimes individual lives must be sacrificed for greater good."

The conversation continued for another hour as conspirators refined details and coordinated timing. Grim contributed occasional questions that demonstrated interest while gathering intelligence about their complete network.

Lord Castellan commanded not just three regiments, but had positioned allies throughout the imperial guard hierarchy.

Duke Ravencrest had arranged financing through merchant banks in three neighboring kingdoms, ensuring their coup would have international support.

General Blackwood controlled fortress garrisons that could cut off imperial reinforcements from outlying provinces.

[They've planned this beautifully,] Caius admitted with grudging respect. [If they weren't planning to murder your friends and overthrow the woman who trusts you, this would be impressive political maneuvering.]

"One final matter," Julius said as the meeting approached its conclusion. "Lord Ambrose, I believe you've already met my daughter Mira?"

"Indeed. A remarkable woman."

"She speaks very highly of you." Julius's smile carried implications that made several conspirators chuckle knowingly. "Perhaps, once our new government is established, more permanent arrangements could be discussed."

The suggestion of marriage hung in the air. Julius was offering his daughter as both reward and chain, ensuring Grim's loyalty through personal as well as political bonds.

"An intriguing possibility," Grim replied with apparent interest.

[Careful, boy,] Caius warned. [They're trying to make you part of their family. Much harder to betray people you're related to.]

As the meeting concluded and conspirators prepared to depart, Grim reflected on the intelligence he had gathered.

"Lord Ambrose," Julius said as other conspirators filed out of the dining room. "A moment, if you would."

They were alone now except for house servants clearing the table. Julius poured two glasses of wine from a bottle that probably cost more than most people earned in a year.

"I want you to know," Julius said, offering one glass, "how much your support means to our cause. A man of your reputation lending credibility to our movement ensures success."

"The empire needs strong leadership," Grim replied, accepting the wine while suppressing his urge to pour it over Julius's head.

"Indeed it does." Julius raised his glass in toast. "To new beginnings."

"To justice," Grim replied, allowing Julius to interpret that however he chose.

They drank in comfortable silence for several minutes. Julius seemed to be savoring what he imagined was approaching triumph, while Grim calculated exactly how many hours remained before imperial guards would be breaking down Luminaris doors.

[You're playing this perfectly,] Caius observed. [He has no idea he's toasting his own downfall.]

A sharp knock at the dining room door interrupted their quiet celebration. A house servant entered with obvious nervousness, carrying a wooden box roughly the size of a jewelry case.

"My lord," the servant said with evident reluctance, "this was delivered for you. No message, no identification of sender."

Julius frowned as he accepted the box. It was well-crafted but unremarkable, the kind of container that might hold expensive gifts or important documents.

"Who delivered it?"

"Unknown person, my lord. Left it with the gate guards and departed immediately."

Julius examined the box more carefully, looking for identifying marks or suspicious elements. Finding nothing obviously dangerous, he carefully lifted the lid.

The scream that erupted from his throat was inhuman.

Inside the box, nestled in black velvet like a precious jewel, lay a severed human finger. The flesh was pale from blood loss, the cut clean and recent. But it was the gold signet ring still adorning the finger that transformed Julius from composed conspirator to anguished father.

The Luminaris family crest gleamed in the candlelight, worn by the heir to their house since his sixteenth birthday.

Max's finger.

"My son," Julius whispered, his face draining of all color. "They have my son."