Chapter - 20 Unexpected Guests

As the days passed, the skeletal frame of what would soon become the grand headquarters of the Raven's Nest Guild rose atop Aldric's estate. Rather than keeping his manor as a private residence, he had repurposed it to serve as the heart of their operations.

Amid scattered blueprints and half-finished walls, Aldric, Lucien, and Master Rowan sat in deep discussion, their voices weaving through the rhythmic clang of hammers and the scent of fresh lumber. Each sound, each beam placed, was a testament to the foundation they were laying—not just in stone and wood, but in the future they were building.

Before the discussion could go any further, the sound of galloping hooves echoed across the snowy farmland. A group of armored riders approached from the estate's main road, their banners displaying the colors of Duke Alaric.

Aldric immediately recognized one of the riders at the front—a messenger bearing the crest of House Ravensbourne. The man dismounted with urgency, offering a short but respectful bow.

"My lord, I bring news from your father."

Aldric frowned slightly. "What is it?"

The messenger hesitated only briefly before responding. "The Duke has summoned you back to the estate immediately. A delegation has arrived—envoys from House Vauldin."

Lucien's easy demeanor vanished. His expression sharpened.

"Vauldin? That's King Osric's house," Lucien muttered. "What are they doing here, in the middle of winter no less?"

Aldric's mind raced. House Vauldin was one of the most powerful noble houses in the kingdom, closely tied to the royal family. If they had sent envoys directly to House Ravensbourne, it meant something significant was at play.

Aldric turned back to the messenger. "How many envoys? Who leads them?"

"Three," the messenger replied. "And their leader is Lord Cedric Vauldin."

Lucien exhaled through his nose. "Cedric… The King's cousin. This isn't a simple courtesy visit."

Aldric nodded grimly. "No, it isn't. Something's happening at the royal court, and they want us involved."

Without wasting another moment, Aldric mounted his horse. "Let's not keep them waiting."

Lucien followed suit, his expression unreadable.

As they rode back toward the estate, Aldric felt a new weight settle on his shoulders.

He had just started with reshaping his land.

Now, it seemed the kingdom itself was calling him forward.

Afternoon snow drifted gently across the courtyard as the royal envoy approached the Ravensbourne estate. The rhythmic clatter of hooves and the steady march of four armored knights filled the crisp air, their black and gold tabards marking them as sworn to the Vauldin family—the king's own house.

At their head rode Lord Cedric Vauldin, a man in his forties with sharp features, piercing blue eyes, and a neatly trimmed beard. Draped in a deep-blue cloak embroidered with the royal insignia, he carried the commanding presence of one accustomed to power. Behind him, three royal messengers followed closely, their bearing exuding an air of unquestionable authority.

From the estate's balcony, Duke Alaric Ravensbourne and Aldric watched the approaching delegation.

Aldric crossed his arms. "A royal envoy, led by the king's cousin, no less. Have we done something to warrant such attention?"

Alaric's expression remained unreadable, though a flicker of contemplation passed through his eyes. "I can think if a few… but when a Vauldin moves, it is rarely for trivial matters."

A steward approached and bowed. "My lords, the royal envoy requests an audience."

Alaric adjusted his coat. "Then let's not keep them waiting."

The grand hall flickered with golden candlelight, casting long shadows across the polished wooden table that stretched between the Ravensbourne lords and their royal guests. The warmth of the castle was a stark contrast to the snow-laden world outside, and Lord Cedric Vauldin idly tapped his fingers against the table's smooth surface, his sharp blue eyes scanning the hall with a look of quiet astonishment.

One of the royal messengers leaned toward his companion, whispering in hushed surprise. "The Ravensbournes must be swimming in wealth to afford Rune heating throughout the castle."

The mistake was understandable. The warmth felt as if it radiated from beneath their feet—an effect commonly associated with magical Runes, powerful enchantments that commanded a staggering price of 100 to 300 gold per piece. To have them spread throughout an entire castle for mere heating was a luxury reserved for only the richest and most powerful. Then again, this was a duchy; such extravagance was not unexpected.

Cedric exhaled, composing himself before turning to Duke Alaric. "I must say, Duke Ravensbourne, your lands are as well-kept as ever. It is rare that I find myself so far from the capital." His tone was polite, but there was an unmistakable weight behind his words—formality laced with intent.

Alaric met his gaze with calm indifference. "A pleasure to host you, Lord Vauldin. To what do I owe the honor of this visit?"

Cedric's smile was thin, his fingers ceasing their rhythmic tapping. Getting straight to the point. "Then I will speak plainly. The Kingdom of Esmora has formally requested the extradition of two fugitives—Caelum and Seraphina—who are believed to have taken refuge within your lands."

Aldric furrowed his brow. Who? The names meant nothing to him.

Across the table, his father remained composed, his expression unreadable. "Fugitives, you say?" Alaric's voice was calm, measured. "And what crime have they committed?"

Lord Cedric folded his hands together, his fingers tapping idly against his knuckles. "Treason—an act punishable by death in Esmora. Naturally, our king wishes to maintain good relations and ensure these criminals are returned."

Aldric stiffened slightly. Why would fugitives come here? And how would we even know if they had?

He turned to his father, expecting the same confusion—but Alaric's gaze remained locked with Cedric's, unwavering. He knows something.

Cedric leaned forward slightly. "We have reason to believe they are within Ravensbourne lands."

Aldric shot another glance at his father. Still, no surprise.

Alaric exhaled, steepling his fingers. "And what proof do you have that they are here?"

Cedric's lips curled into a knowing smile. "An anonymous report claims that a man and a young girl—matching their descriptions—were spotted in one of your northern townships."

Aldric leaned forward, unimpressed. "Anonymous, you say? Then it could be nothing more than a baseless rumor."

Cedric's smile didn't fade. "Perhaps. But rumors often have a way of leading to truth."

Aldric's unease deepened. Father knows something but is deliberately withholding it. Why?

Alaric's voice remained calm, yet firm. "You must understand, Lord Vauldin, my lands are vast. I do not inspect every traveler who passes through."

Cedric gave a slow nod. "Which is why we ask for your cooperation. Should they be found within your domain, the King expects them to be handed over without resistance."

Aldric's voice was measured. "And if they are not here?"

Cedric's smirk returned. "Then this meeting is merely a formality, and we shall be on our way."

Alaric nodded. "Very well. If these fugitives are within my lands, I will investigate the matter myself."

For the first time, a flicker of something crossed Cedric's face—annoyance? Skepticism? He recovered quickly, standing smoothly. "Of course, Duke Ravensbourne. The King values your cooperation."

Alaric and Aldric both rose, watching as Cedric and his men made their way toward the exit. But as Cedric reached the doorway, he paused, glancing over his shoulder.

"I must say, Duke Alaric," he mused, his voice light but laced with curiosity, "you have a prospering duchy. The Rune heating in your castle alone must have cost a fortune."

Aldric opened his mouth to correct him—the warmth wasn't from Runes at all—but before he could speak, Alaric cut in smoothly.

"I have expanded my economic ventures across the land," he said matter-of-factly, "allowing me to indulge in certain luxuries."

Cedric chuckled, his gaze lingering on Alaric for a beat longer than necessary. "A wise investment. After all, I've also heard rumors that one of the refugees is a mage. Talented enough to craft Runes, perhaps?"

Aldric tensed. He's fishing for a reaction.

Alaric's expression didn't waver. "Rumors are just that—rumors."

Cedric hummed, amusement glinting in his eyes as he turned to Aldric. "I've heard whispers of your accomplishments as well, young lord." He studied him with feigned admiration. "The Kingdom expects great things from you."

Aldric met his gaze evenly. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind."

Cedric smirked, turning back to his men. Without another word, the envoy departed, their cloaks billowing behind them.

As the heavy doors shut, Aldric exhaled sharply, crossing his arms. "They don't actually believe we'll turn them over, do they?"

Alaric smirked, though there was no amusement in his eyes. "No. That wasn't a request. It was a warning."

Aldric frowned. "They're watching us now."

Alaric turned to the balcony, his gaze settling on the snow-dusted courtyard below. "Undoubtedly."

Aldric studied his father's posture—the calculated stillness, the way his fingers tapped idly against his sleeve. His father was already considering his next move.

After a pause, Aldric spoke carefully. "You knew about them, didn't you?"

Silence.

Then, finally, Alaric nodded. "I did. But I was unaware they were wanted fugitives."

Aldric's brow furrowed. "And now that we do know… what's the plan?"

Alaric exhaled, clasping his hands behind his back. "That depends."

Aldric tilted his head slightly. "On what?"

His father glanced at him, sharp and appraising. "On whether they prove to be a problem."

Aldric let out a slow breath, his curiosity deepening. His father wasn't ruling anything out—nor was he rushing to act. He was waiting, watching.

Aldric let out a slow breath, his mind turning over the conversation.

Alaric walked past him, gesturing for Aldric to follow. "Come."

They moved through the stone corridors, the distant glow of torches flickering against the walls. The warmth of the castle contrasted with the cold tension still lingering in Aldric's chest.