Chapter 21 - Defiance in the Shadows

They walked through the stone corridors in silence, the torches along the walls flickering as they passed. The dim glow cast long, shifting shadows, stretching and shrinking as if the castle itself was listening. Aldric kept his pace measured, his expression unreadable. His father had led him away without a word, but Aldric knew this was not a conversation to be had in the open.

The study doors loomed ahead, dark wood polished smooth by age and use. Alaric pushed them open and stepped inside, the warm glow of the hearth casting flickering light across the shelves of books and aged maps lining the walls. Despite the heat from the fire, the room felt cold.

Alaric moved to his desk, resting a hand on the back of his chair. "You understand the position we're in."

Aldric nodded. "Esmora wants them back, and the crown expects us to comply."

Aldric exhaled, his mind turning over the possibilities. "At best, it raises suspicion. They'll tighten their watch, send spies, plant rumors. At worst, they accuse us outright. If Esmora pushes for action, the crown may be forced to respond—whether they believe the accusation or not."

As Aldric spoke, lost in his own calculations, he remained unaware of the quiet scrutiny he was under.

Alaric gave a slow nod, studying Aldric carefully. This change in him is not ordinary. Whatever he went through when he was poisoned… it's as if that poison killed the old Aldric and refined what remained into a polished diamond. He let out a quiet hum of thought. Maybe I should poison Lucien too. That kid could use a little maturing. 

The idea lingered for a moment longer than it should have before he sighed and dismissed it. Probably not the best method for self-improvement

Aldric was already thinking ahead, putting himself in others' positions without bias—just as a true strategist would. If he continues to prove himself, I might actually be able to step down sooner than I thought.

Soon Aldric finished his responsed.

A faint smile crossed Alaric's lips as he met Aldric's gaze. "And how does that serve us?"

"It doesn't," Aldric admitted. "Being seen as disloyal weakens our standing, and drawing royal attention could threaten our autonomy. However…" He paused, considering. "Blind obedience has its dangers, too. If we hand them over without question, we risk looking weak. Subservient. A mere extension of Esmora's will."

His father studied him for a long moment. "Then tell me, Aldric. What would you do?"

Aldric hesitated. Not because he didn't have an answer, but because he wasn't yet sure how much he wanted to say.

"I don't have enough information," he said carefully. "I don't know who these fugitives truly are, what they've done, or if they have any real value to us." He let that sink in before adding, "But Esmora wants them badly. That alone makes me wonder."

A flicker of something—approval? Amusement?—crossed Alaric's face. "A cautious response."

Aldric leaned against the doorframe, forcing a relaxed posture. "I prefer to know what I'm dealing with before making a move."

Alaric gave a slight nod. "Good. Because we will not act hastily."

Aldric tilted his head, watching his father closely. "And if they are here?"

Alaric met his gaze, his voice unreadable. "Then we decide what they're worth."

Aldric turned the words over in his mind. We decide what they're worth.

His father wasn't interested in guilt or innocence. He was weighing leverage. If the fugitives could be used to their advantage—politically, strategically—then perhaps their fate was not yet sealed.

But Aldric understood what was being left unsaid.

If they weren't valuable? If they were nothing more than burdens or risks?

They would be discarded. Left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Alaric leaned back in his chair, after some much though., watching him. "You will not interfere in this matter, Aldric. Do you understand?"

Aldric held his father's gaze. He had expected this. Alaric would not risk House Ravensbourne's standing for strangers. He would not gamble their position in court for people whose worth had not been proven.

And yet, Aldric couldn't shake the feeling that this was an opportunity.

Perhaps his father was right. Perhaps these fugitives were nothing—pawns in a larger game, pieces to be traded or sacrificed as needed.

But what if they weren't?

What if they were worth more than either the crown or Esmora realized? What if keeping them—or using them—could tip the scales in a way no one expected?

His father saw leverage. Aldric saw potential.

He had no intention of openly defying Alaric. Not yet. He would move carefully, quietly. He would gather information, find these fugitives before anyone else did, and determine for himself whether they were worth protecting—or exploiting.

If he was discovered, he would deal with the consequences then.

"…Understood," Aldric said at last, his expression giving nothing away.

Alaric studied him for a moment longer before nodding.

Aldric turned on his heel and left the study without another word.

Alaric considered the matter carefully. Letting Aldric handle this on his own might be too soon. He's shown major improvement, but the years he spent disappointing me aren't so easily forgotten. He exhaled slowly. Perhaps I'll watch how he handles this first.

His decision made, a small silver bell on his desk. With a single chime, the air shifted.. From the shadows, six figures emerged, their forms materializing in a swirl of mist and falling black feathers. They knelt before him, their movements silent, their presence almost unnatural.

One of them spoke, his voice low and steady. The first Shadow "Your orders, my lord?"

Alaric's gaze lingered on the door Aldric had walked through moments ago. "Follow him. Observe his actions. Report everything to me like you have been."

The figures bowed deeper in unison. "As you wish, my lord." And with that, they vanished, slipping back into the shadows as if they had never been there at all.

Unbeknownst to Aldric, while his mind was already at work, shadows moved in silent unison, ever watchful. Hidden in the darkness, they tracked his every step, shifting seamlessly between the streets and rooftops, their presence unnoticed by all. They were relentless, their sole purpose clear—observe, report, and remain unseen.