Talent

The tavern was dimly lit, thick with the scent of ale, sweat, and unspoken secrets. It was the kind of place where power lurked in the shadows, where information traded hands over drinks and debts.

Diana stepped inside, her golden eyes sweeping over the room with quiet calculation. The clatter of dice, the murmur of whispered bets, and the drunken laughter of men faded into background noise. She paid no attention to the barmaids weaving through the crowd, their trays laden with cheap liquor.

Her focus was on a single, unremarkable door at the back.

That was where he was.

Or so she had been led to believe.

A scarred bouncer blocked the entrance, arms crossed over his broad chest. His dull eyes gave her a slow once-over before he grunted, "No entry."

Diana didn't pause. She merely tilted her head, her expression unreadable, and murmured, "The sun sets in the east, but the king still drinks his tea."

The bouncer stiffened. His fingers twitched at his side.

Then, without another word, he stepped aside and pushed the door open for her.

Diana stepped through.

Inside, the room was a stark contrast to the tavern's filth and noise.

Velvet drapes softened the walls, a chandelier bathed the space in golden light, and a fireplace crackled warmly. A scent of expensive wine and burning wood lingered in the air.

At the center of it all sat a man—middle-aged, broad-shouldered, his beard neatly trimmed. He lounged in a high-backed chair, one leg crossed over the other, a glass of wine swirling in his hand. His sharp, calculating eyes locked onto her the moment she entered.

Diana didn't blink.

A decoy.

She had expected as much.

The real Lucius Nightbane would never be so obvious.

Still, she played along.

"You're not what I expected," she said smoothly, stepping forward. "I imagined you younger."

The man smiled, tilting his glass. "Age is merely an illusion, Your Majesty. And I—"

Diana cut him off. "I want you to tutor my son."

Silence.

Then—

A loud, hearty laugh burst from the man's lips.

He laughed as if she had told the best joke in the world, shaking his head. "Ah, Empress. You come to me, the most powerful broker in the empire, and ask me to become a tutor?"

He wiped his eyes. "Truly, I admire your audacity."

Diana merely watched him, unamused.

Then she sighed, reached into her coat pocket, and pulled out—

A single silver coin.

She placed it on the table.

The man's laughter died instantly.

The air shifted.

Diana tapped the coin with a gloved finger. "How long do you plan to waste my time, stand-in?"

The man didn't move. Didn't even breathe.

Then, slowly, his expression changed.

The easy arrogance faded.

A moment later, he let out a low chuckle. "Tsk. You really are sharp."

He reached for the coin, flipping it between his fingers before tucking it into his sleeve. Then, without another word, he stood up—walked past her—

And left through a side door.

Diana waited.

Three seconds.

Five.

Then—

"Not bad, Empress."

The voice came from behind her.

Smooth. Unhurried. Amused.

Diana turned.

There—lounging in the chair the decoy had just vacated—was the real Lucius Nightbane.

Younger. Sharper. More dangerous.

His violet eyes gleamed as he swirled a fresh glass of wine.

"How did you know?" he asked, tilting his head.

Diana took a seat across from him. "Your decoy looked me in the eye."

Lucius blinked. Then he laughed.

"Ah. Of course." He took a slow sip of wine. "Only a fool would do that."

Diana didn't smile. "I want to hire you."

Lucius smirked. "To tutor your son?"

"Yes."

He burst into laughter.

"Gods, that's even funnier the second time." He leaned back, still grinning. "Diana Hinsdale, mother of the empire, wants me—a man who trades in lies and blood—to teach her child?" He shook his head. "You must be desperate."

Diana's expression didn't change. "Lucien needs to understand power."

Lucius rested his chin on his hand. "There are plenty of scholars in the palace. Why not them?"

"They teach rules," Diana said. "You teach how to break them."

Lucius exhaled through his nose, amused. "And what makes you think I'd agree?"

Diana pulled out a second item—a folded piece of parchment—and slid it across the table.

Lucius didn't touch it immediately. He simply looked at her. "What's this?"

"A task," Diana said. "Consider it a gift first."

Lucius raised an eyebrow but picked up the parchment. He unfolded it, eyes scanning the words.

His smirk faded.

Slowly, he looked back up at her. "The mermaid necklace?"

Diana nodded.

Lucius let out a low whistle, tossing the parchment onto the table. "You're insane."

Diana tilted her head. "Why?"

He gestured vaguely. "Because that damn thing is cursed."

"That's a rumor."

"It's a very persistent rumor."

Diana simply shrugged.

Lucius sighed, rubbing his temples. "That necklace belonged to Catherine, the former Empress of the Holy Empire." He gave her a pointed look. "The same Catherine who supposedly drowned herself in the royal lake."

Diana's face remained impassive.

Lucius continued, "And now it's up for auction? Half the empire's nobility wants it as a collector's piece, and the other half won't touch it because they think it's haunted."

He leaned back, studying her. "So tell me, Empress. Why do you want it?"

Diana didn't blink. "I need it."

Lucius narrowed his eyes.

For the first time in their conversation, his usual smirk was absent.

Diana Hinsdale was not a woman who chased superstition. If she wanted the mermaid necklace, it wasn't for sentimental reasons.

It was for something else.

Something deeper.

Something dangerous.

Lucius exhaled, dragging a hand through his dark hair. "Fine."

Diana raised an eyebrow. "Fine?"

He groaned. "Fine. I'll get your cursed jewelry." He pointed a finger at her. "But I'm charging extra if ghosts start following me."

Diana smirked. "Wouldn't dream of it."

Lucius took another sip of wine, watching her.

There was something about this woman that unsettled him.

She spoke to him too easily.

Read him too well.

Almost as if she already knew him.

Lucius drummed his fingers against the table. "One job, then we're even."

Diana's golden eyes gleamed.

Unknown to him, this was only the beginning.

*****

The clang of wooden swords echoed through the training grounds, crisp against the cool morning air.

Raizel stepped back, his blue eyes locked onto the small figure in front of him. His grip on his practice sword tightened as he watched Lucien adjust his stance—perfectly balanced, weight evenly distributed, the exact posture Raizel had demonstrated not even two days ago.

Unbelievable.

"Again," Raizel commanded, his calm voice betraying none of his shock.

Lucien nodded eagerly, his black hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. He shifted his feet, following the footprints left in the dirt from their drills. Step, pivot, weight transfer—every movement precise, every adjustment instinctual.

Raizel's mind whirled.

It had taken him three weeks to master this level of control when he was a child. Three weeks. And that was with the best instructors in the Hinsdale family constantly drilling him.

Lucien had copied it in two days.

Two.

Raizel schooled his expression, though his thoughts were anything but composed. This kid…

He exhaled, gripping his sword. "Alright, come at me."

Lucien hesitated. "U-Um… Uncle, are you sure?" His soft, uncertain voice tugged at Raizel's heart.

The boy was talented—no, gifted—beyond belief, yet his gray eyes were clouded with doubt. He truly believed he was still bad at this.

Raizel's heart ached.

"Of course," Raizel replied evenly, raising his practice sword. "I won't go easy on you."

Lucien took a deep breath. Then he moved.

Fast.

The wooden sword cut through the air, his footwork flawless. He had absorbed every single lesson Raizel had given him, applied them, and improved. There was no hesitation in his swings, no wasted movement.

Raizel dodged, barely. His eyes narrowed.

Lucien's movements weren't just practiced. They were natural, like he was made for this.

This wasn't just talent.

This was monstrous.

Raizel countered with a swift strike, testing the boy's reaction.

Lucien flinched—just slightly—before instinct took over. He shifted his weight, narrowly avoiding the blow, though his grip faltered at the last moment. He stumbled back, eyes wide.

"I-I failed," Lucien mumbled, lowering his sword. His shoulders drooped. "I did bad again."

Raizel blinked.

"…Lucien," he said, voice strangely soft.

Lucien didn't look up.

Raizel took a slow breath, controlling the mix of emotions threatening to show on his face. This child. This prodigy. This genius. He was standing there, beating himself up over what? A single misstep?

Raizel sighed and stepped forward. Then, without a word, he reached out and ruffled Lucien's hair.

Lucien froze.

Then—

A soft giggle.

The boy practically melted under his touch, his gray eyes lighting up as he leaned into the head pat like a cat soaking up affection.

Raizel closed his eyes briefly, gathering his thoughts. My cute little angel of a sister gave birth to a monster.

But this so-called monster was giggling like an innocent child, delighted by something as simple as a head pat.

Raizel swallowed down his exasperation. "Lucien."

"Yes, Uncle?"

"You're a genius."

Lucien's laughter died. He blinked up at Raizel, confused. "H-Huh? No, I… I'm not…"

Raizel's grip on the wooden sword tightened. He had seen it—seen how fast Lucien learned, seen the way he moved. The boy wasn't just picking up techniques. His instincts were unnatural. Almost terrifying.

Still, his nephew stood before him, head lowered, uncertain. The weight of self-doubt clung to him like a shadow.

Raizel sighed again.

"Training is over for today."

Lucien blinked. "Eh? But—"

"Go change before you catch a cold."

Lucien hesitated but eventually nodded, hurrying off to the side where fresh clothes waited.

Raizel stood still, watching him go.

His blue eyes darkened.

Lucien wasn't sickly. The rumors about his frail body were false. His lethargy wasn't weakness—it was mana. An overabundance of it. His body was constantly absorbing mana, leaving him drained.

Raizel could see it. The faint, invisible currents of energy flowing around Lucien.

But Raizel was a swordmaster, not a mage. He couldn't guide Lucien through this.

He exhaled. Diana had mentioned hiring a magic instructor for Lucien soon.

Raizel's lips pressed into a thin line. That better be soon, Diana.

The thought barely crossed his mind before something else hit him.

Something was wrong.

He turned sharply, his senses flaring.

Diana.

She wasn't in the palace.

His silver brows furrowed as he scanned the surroundings, his sharp instincts honed from years of battle.

Where was she?

Footsteps approached.

Ellise.

The lady-in-waiting stepped forward, her expression too controlled. Too composed.

Raizel's eyes narrowed. "Where is she?"

Ellise hesitated. "…Her Majesty is resting."

Lies.

Raizel's patience thinned. "Ellise."

The maid's hands tightened into fists.

"She… went for a walk."

A walk.

Raizel exhaled sharply through his nose. Of course. Diana sneaked out.

And Ellise had been covering for her.

His irritation barely had time to settle before he heard light footsteps.

Diana had returned.

She strolled into the courtyard, silver hair catching the sunlight, golden eyes gleaming with mischief. She moved with practiced ease, as if she hadn't just disappeared for who-knew-how-long.

Raizel crossed his arms.

Diana met his stare and offered an easy, almost amused smile.

"I went for a walk," she said.

Raizel didn't even flinch. "Liar."

Diana let out a breathy chuckle. "Oh? So distrustful."

Raizel's eyes narrowed. He studied her carefully. No visible injuries. No exhaustion. Whatever she had done, it hadn't been a reckless act.

Still—

He sighed, rubbing his temple.

"Just don't die, Diana," he muttered.

Diana's smile widened. "Aw, brother. Are you worried about me?"

Raizel gave her a flat look.

She laughed.

Ellise, wisely, excused herself.

Lucien, now changed into fresh clothes, ran up to Diana, tugging at her sleeve. "Mother, Uncle said I'm a genius."

Diana raised an eyebrow, looking at Raizel with clear amusement.

Raizel groaned. "Go eat your dinner."

Lucien pouted but obeyed, skipping ahead with an innocent hum.

Diana watched him go before turning back to Raizel.

"I see you've noticed."

Raizel's jaw tightened. "Diana, that child—"

"I know." Her voice was soft. Knowing.

Raizel exhaled, running a hand through his silver hair. He had so many things he wanted to say.

In the end, he only said one thing.

"You better get that magic instructor."

Diana chuckled. "I already have someone in mind."

Raizel wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or concerned.