Duke Aric stood before the ornate desk in his private quarters, carefully arranging a series of parchments in a precise pattern. Each document detailed a specific "accident" from the current tournament—altered documents in the diplomatic trials, equipment failures during combat assessments, unexpined schedule changes before the leadership challenge—all targeting contestants from common backgrounds or those showing progressive tendencies.

  He added a final notation to his analysis, then stepped back to observe the pattern that had emerged. These weren't random failures or coincidences—they represented a deliberate campaign to undermine specific contestants.

  The soft chime of the midnight hour echoed through his chambers as he sealed the documents in a leather folio embossed with Lucius's personal crest. Following the diplomatic trial incidents, he had received a discreet message from the Archduke himself—continue documenting but take no direct action.

  Aric understood the strategy. As Lucius's direct vassal, he recognized the political chess game his patron had been pying for decades. While the Archduke always ensured immediate intervention when sabotage occurred, he never publicly accused Orlov or his representatives. Instead, the problematic agents would mysteriously disappear from subsequent tournaments, quietly repced without implicating Orlov himself.

  During his first Crimson Games sixty years earlier, Aric had initially resented this approach, viewing it as unnecessary caution. Now, with the wisdom of decades serving as Lucius's duke, he appreciated the subtle brilliance. By allowing Orlov pusible deniability, Lucius kept him at the tournament table year after year—while systematically removing his most competent operatives.

  Each tournament had seen simir patterns. Using his privileged ducal access to tournament archives, Aric had discovered that incidents in previous tournaments traced back to specific subordinates in Orlov's entourage. Those individuals subsequently vanished from vampire nobility circles, their positions filled by increasingly less capable repcements.

  A knock at his door interrupted these reflections. One of Lucius's personal messengers stood in the corridor, hand extended for the folio.

  "His Grace requested your observations be delivered directly, Your Excellency," the messenger said with formal deference.

  Aric handed over the documents. "Tell His Grace that the pattern is consistent with previous tournaments, though escating in sophistication."

  The messenger nodded once and departed, leaving Aric alone with his thoughts. The sabotage investigation was merely one of many long games his patron pyed, and Aric's role was simply to observe and document. Lucius would handle the consequences in his own subtle way, as he had for centuries.

  Aric moved to the window, gazing across the tournament grounds toward the quarters where Nathaniel Hargrove would be preparing for the next day's trials. The young noble remained an enigma—aristocratic bearing with unexpected progressive approaches. Something about him didn't align with Aric's experience of traditional nobility, particurly those from Orlov's territories.

  He touched the gss absently, his thoughts shifting from tournament sabotage to the puzzle of Nathaniel Hargrove. The saboteurs would face Lucius's quiet justice in time. For now, perhaps the more interesting mystery was the copper-haired noble whose performances continued to defy expectations.

  Aric smiled slightly. Tournament politics would resolve themselves according to his patron's designs. But Lord Hargrove... that was a mystery he might enjoy unraveling personally.