The first rule of building a proper criminal empire is simple:
You can't do it alone.
Which was a real shame, because trusting people had historically worked out for me about as well as hugging a basilisk. But I couldn't exactly mastermind the public collapse of an entire noble house while also brewing potions, gathering intel, infiltrating parties, staging illusions, and faking a dead duke's signature on cursed documents by myself.
So, I needed help.
Minions. Henchmen. Partners-in-mildly-theatrical-crime.
Preferably someone smart, skilled, desperate, and morally flexible enough not to report me to the nearest cleric.
Enter: Kestrel.
Or rather, re-enter, because I first spotted him singing off-key in a Duskmoor tavern, getting booed by a crowd of drunk farmers who thought "court bard" meant "funny songs about goats."
He looked like he'd been fired, rehired, exiled, and possibly resurrected by mistake. Frayed cuffs. Split lip. A lute with one broken string and something like sadness behind the performance. Not tragic sadness practiced sadness. Performed.
I paid for his ale. He immediately assumed I was going to kill him.
"No offense," he said, eyeing the vial I'd slipped into the barkeep's hand. "You have the look of someone who talks to knives."
"Do you always insult people who offer free drinks?"
"Only the ones who look like they've got ulterior motives."
He wasn't wrong.
I sat down beside him and smiled like someone who wasn't planning a public takedown of a genocidal noble house. "I'm in the market for a liar."
"Oh good," he said, downing the drink. "That's all I have left."
We talked. Or rather, he talked and I watched.
Kestrel had been court bard to House Valdris two years ago. Got too close to some family secrets. Told the wrong joke at the wrong banquet. Ended up framed for poisoning the Lord's pet alchemist and thrown in a river.
They thought he'd drowned.
"I almost did," he said, rolling up his sleeve to show the half-moon scar from a manacle burn. "But death is overrated, and revenge is still trending."
[System Notification: Target Identified – Kestrel Valen]
Class: Disgraced Bard
Known Crimes: Defamation, Forgery, Public Indecency, Surviving a Death Sentence
Compatibility: High
Recruitment Potential: Strong (with incentives)
"Well," I said. "I have a plan."
He raised an eyebrow. "You're either a madman or a genius. Possibly both."
"Depends on the day."
That was the moment I realized something terrifying: I liked him.
Not romantically, not heroically just… liked. He was sharp, slippery, and not impressed by me. It was a strange relief.
Still, I didn't trust him. Not yet.
So I tested him.
I led him into a trap.
Not my trap. Someone else's. A known poisoner named Madam Skathe who ran "potions" out of the apothecary quarter. She owed Valdris a favor. Had a nasty habit of charming her clients and burying them with a smile.
We visited her under the pretense of buying truth serum.
"Be polite," I whispered as we entered. "She likes pretty lies."
Madam Skathe was wearing a bone necklace and a smile like a cracked teacup.
"Well well," she purred. "A prince and a pauper. What do you want, boys?"
Kestrel did the talking. Charmed her. Lied with just enough truth that she leaned forward, interested.
That's when I slipped a reversal rune under the potion flask.
The deal soured fast. She caught on. Tried to hex us both.
And Kestrel?
He stabbed her in the leg with a lute string sharpened into a needle.
No hesitation. No questions.
We left her cursing on the floor, her own paralytic formula seeping into her veins.
Kestrel laughed the whole way out. Not loudly. Not cruelly. Just a quiet, tired chuckle.
"She used to be charming," he said.
"You passed," I replied.
[System Notification: Ally Recruited – Kestrel Valen]
Title: Disgraced Bard Embodiment Seal: Unlocked
Magic Type: Voicebound Resonance (Embodiment of Deceit, Melancholy, and Loyalty)
Vice/Virtue Matrix:
Deceit (Primary Vice): Lies spun to survive, manipulate, and protect.
Melancholy (Vice): Regret for a past betrayal—haunted by the cost of his voice.
Loyalty (Virtue): Would still die for a cause… if he believed one still existed
Allegiance: Tentative (Loyalty unknown)
Bonus: +220 Evil Points
Reason: Made an alliance with a known poisoner to eliminate a greater threat
"Does this mean I'm a villain now?" Kestrel asked.
I paused. "Do you want to be?"
He looked at the sky. "I just want them to pay."
That made two of us.
Back at the tower, I introduced him to the screaming floor tile, which now yelled "Gregor, why?" every few hours instead of just "Gregor." Progress, I guess.
We cleared out a second room and turned it into a planning chamber. The lair system automatically recognized the addition.
[Room Claimed: Operations Nook]
Status: Drafty but functional
Bonus: +5 Lair Efficiency
Kestrel hung up a rough map of the Valdris estate. "We'll need access to the east wing. That's where the ledgers are kept."
"I thought those were destroyed."
He gave a smug little smile. "The public ones, yes. But the real books are in the vault. And the vault… is beneath the chapel."
I blinked. "The one guarded by divine wards?"
"The very same."
"I hate this already."
Kestrel grinned. "Good. That means we're on the right track."
I didn't know if I could trust him. He didn't know if he could trust me.
But for now?
We both had a use for each other. And neither of us had anything left to lose.
Except, maybe, our excuses.
[Evil Points Total: 855]
[Viewer Count: 143,918]
[Top Comment: "These two are absolutely going to betray each other and I will eat popcorn watching it."]
[Narrative Sync: 93% – Emotional Mask Stable]