38- The Snow Begins to Melt

Aldric sat in his study, fingers lightly tapping against the wooden armrest of his chair. Outside his window, the once-untouched snow that blanketed Ravensbourne was beginning to retreat, melting under the growing warmth of the sun. Patches of green peeked through the white, a reminder that time was moving forward, whether he was ready or not.

It had been several weeks since he first attempted to control mana. Every day, he spent hours in deep concentration, pushing himself to understand its flow. He had discovered a fundamental truth—without a mana circle, he had no internal reservoir. Instead, his body was like a void, attracting external mana like a black hole, allowing him to control it only as long as it was present around him.

However, there was a major flaw. Without a container, he was limited. He could only control so much at once, and the moment he tried to hold more, the excess mana dispersed back into the environment. It was like trying to carry water in his hands—there was no vessel to store it. If he was in an area devoid of mana, he would be completely powerless.

This realization frustrated him.

Magic had rules, just like science. And if rules existed, then there were ways to bend them.

He exhaled and leaned back. I need a solution.

But while he had been consumed by his studies, the rest of Raven's Shadow had not been idle. The organization had grown rapidly in numbers, with more agents passing the rigorous tests required to become full-fledged members.

Mara, Red, Royce, Tobias, and Gerrod had each taken the initiative to train recruits in their respective specialties. Red, in particular, had personally overseen the training of a new scouting unit. His team had been moving through Marquis Gustov's territory, gathering intelligence, mapping potential ambush points, and tracking enemy movements. They had been working tirelessly to ensure Aldric had every piece of information necessary before stepping into the battlefield.

The world outside was moving, preparing.

And Aldric could no longer afford to be lost in theory.

Before he could dwell further, a knock at his door pulled him from his thoughts.

"Come in," he said.

The door creaked open, and Caelum stepped inside. The alchemist's robes were slightly disheveled, his hands dusted with traces of crushed herbs and alchemical powder. His sharp, observant eyes swept the room before he offered Aldric a small, knowing smirk.

"You look like you've been contemplating the mysteries of the universe," Caelum remarked. "Should I be concerned?"

Aldric chuckled. "Just a minor roadblock in my studies."

Caelum crossed his arms. "Well, if you need a distraction, I have a question that's been nagging me since our last conversation."

Aldric gestured for him to continue.

"The Periodic Table," Caelum said, stepping closer. "You mentioned it briefly before, but the more I think about it, the stranger it seems. It categorizes elements—things that make up the world itself. But I've never encountered such a system in alchemy. The way you speak of it, it almost sounds like an absolute truth."

Aldric carefully chose his words. "It's a system developed to understand the fundamental nature of substances. Every material in existence is made up of smaller components—structured and predictable."

Caelum furrowed his brows. "So, you're saying that everything, even magic-infused minerals, follows a set structure?"

"In theory, yes."

The alchemist's intrigue deepened. "Then, does mana itself have structure? Could it be classified the same way?"

Aldric hesitated. He had pondered that question himself, but he had no concrete answer yet.

"That's what I intend to find out," he admitted. "Alchemy and magic might not be as different as we think. If mana follows rules, then perhaps… it can be studied, manipulated, and improved upon."

Caelum grinned. "You're starting to sound like an alchemist."

Aldric smirked. "I'll take that as a compliment."

The conversation was interrupted by a sharp knock. This time, the door opened before Aldric could respond.

Red stepped inside.

Unlike Caelum, his expression was grim. His usual confident air was replaced with something heavier—concern, maybe even frustration.

"Bad news?" Aldric asked, already knowing the answer.

Aldric gave a knowing look at Caelum to dismiss him.

Caelum left the study giving them privacy.

Red didn't waste time. He strode to the desk and unrolled several maps across the surface. The parchment bore markings, hastily scrawled notes, and various points of interest—all detailing Marquis Gustov's territory.

"We have a problem," Red said.

Aldric stood, stepping forward to examine the maps. "The bandits?"

Red nodded. "It's worse than we thought."

Aldric studied the markings carefully. The attack sites were precise—too precise.

"These aren't just random attacks," he murmured. "They're systematically cutting off supplies and crippling trade routes."

"Exactly," Red confirmed. "They're too well-organized. It's like someone's pulling the strings."

Aldric's eyes narrowed. This wasn't just about banditry.

He straightened, eyes still on the maps.

"We're not walking into this blind. We'll meet Gustov as planned, but first… I want my own scouting teams in place."

He turned to Red.

"Gather our best. I want to know exactly what we're dealing with."

Red gave a sharp nod. "Consider it done."

As he left the room, Aldric glanced outside once more.

The snow was melting.

A Few Days Before the Battle

The war room of Raven's Nest was alive with tension. Maps, reports, and tactical plans were spread across the massive wooden table at the center, illuminated by flickering candlelight. The air smelled of parchment, ink, and the faint trace of damp stone from the underground chamber.

Aldric stood at the head of the table, hands resting on the map of Marquis Gustov's lands, his sharp eyes scanning every detail. Around him, Lucien, Red, Royce, Mara, Tobias, and Gerrod sat in their respective seats—each one representing a pillar of the ever-growing Raven's Shadow.

Lucien leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. His resemblance to Aldric was striking, though his features were sharper, his presence commanding in a different way—like a storm waiting to strike. He had been observing his younger brother's rise carefully, and today, he would see just how far Aldric had come.

"Alright," Aldric said, his voice even but firm. "Let's begin. Red, what do you have?"

Red, ever the no-nonsense scout, stepped forward and laid several documents on the table. His team had worked tirelessly to gather intelligence on the bandit problem plaguing Marquis Gustov's lands, and what they uncovered was troubling.

"The so-called bandits aren't just a bunch of desperate men preying on the weak," Red began, his tone grim. "They're too well-armed, too well-coordinated. Someone's supplying them—money, weapons, and discipline."

He pointed at the map, indicating key locations.

"They've set up a main camp deep in the Blackthorn Woods, but they also have multiple outposts scattered across the region. Here, here, and here," he tapped the map three times. "These are supply depots. And here—" another tap, "—is where they plan to ambush Marquis Gustov's forces. A narrow valley. A kill box."

Aldric's fingers drummed against the table. "They're expecting him to ride in blind."

Red nodded. "Exactly. And it's not just bandits. We've confirmed the presence of mercenaries. Good ones. Which means someone's paying them."

Royce, the master of disguise, leaned forward. "I slipped in as a traveling merchant and got close enough to overhear orders being given in military fashion. These men aren't common cutthroats."

Lucien finally spoke, his voice cool and calculating. "So, someone is organizing them. But who?"

"That," Red admitted, "we still don't know."

The room fell into thoughtful silence.

Aldric exhaled through his nose, then turned to Royce and Mara.

"I want Royce's team to infiltrate," Aldric said. "We need to get close to their command structure and find out who's pulling the strings."

Royce smirked. "Already planned for it. My people will pose as mercenaries looking for work. Should be easy enough to slip in."

"Mara," Aldric continued, turning to the sharp-eyed strategist. "How quickly can we sabotage their supply routes?"

Mara, ever pragmatic, tapped her fingers against the table. "We can start tonight. Poison their food, set fire to their munitions, disable their horses. By the time they realize what's happening, they'll be weakened and disorganized."

Aldric nodded. "That's why we won't let him walk into the valley unprepared. Gerrod, you'll lead a strike force to eliminate their hidden archers and traps before the battle starts. Take Red's best scouts with you."

Gerrod smirked slightly. "Finally. I was getting tired of watching from the shadows."

Aldric ignored the remark and turned to Mara to invite Caelum over. "Mara invite Caelum over I need to asked him for a favor."

Mara understood and set off to get Caelum.

The war room fell silent as the door swung open.

Caelum stepped in, pushing his glasses up, brow furrowed. "You pulled me away from an experiment. Is there something I can help you with?"

Aldric smirked. "We're preparing for a battle."

Caelum sighed, stepping forward. "Fine. What do you need?"

Aldric gestured to the table. "We need alchemical solutions. Smoke bombs, explosives—anything that can give us an edge."

Caelum's irritation faded as his curiosity took over. He examined the maps and scouted reports, muttering under his breath. "Hmph… This terrain is tricky. But with the right compounds…" He glanced up. "Give me a few hours. I'll have something."

Lucien chuckled from the corner. "You're getting better at this, Aldric."

Aldric didn't look up from the map. "I don't need to know everything. I just need to know who to ask."

"Caelum, I need something to tip the fight in our favor," Aldric said.

Caelum, who had been quietly studying the maps, finally looked up, adjusting his glasses. "How about alchemical warfare? We have the means to disrupt their endurance, confuse their senses, or even induce sickness. A well-placed airborne concoction could leave them sluggish before the fight even begins."

Royce raised an eyebrow. "You mean… poison them?"

Caelum shook his head. "Not poison. Just enough to weaken their bodies temporarily. I can prepare something that spreads through smoke or water."

Aldric considered it, then nodded. "Do it. But make sure it won't kill innocent civilians."

Lucien raised a brow at that. "Soft-hearted?"

Aldric gave him a look. "No. Practical. We're trying to build something here, not become tyrants."

Lucien held his gaze for a moment before giving a small nod of approval.

As the room emptied and the war council dispersed, Lucien remained seated. His fingers tapped rhythmically against the wooden table, his expression unreadable.

Aldric noticed and arched a brow. "Something on your mind?"

Lucien exhaled, leaning forward. "You covered everything—enemy positions, sabotage, infiltration, Gustov's safety. But you're overlooking one thing."

Aldric frowned slightly. "What?"

Lucien tapped the map. "What happens after we win?"

Aldric blinked, caught off guard by the question.

Lucien leaned back, crossing his arms. "You're treating this like a battle. But this isn't just a battle—it's politics. Gustov will owe you, yes, but if you're not careful, you might make enemies where you don't intend to."

Aldric's gaze sharpened. "I know that."

"Do you?" Lucien countered. "Killing the bandits, exposing the mastermind—that's the easy part. What about the power vacuum you'll leave behind? You think the nobles will just sit back and let you control the narrative?"

Aldric considered his words. "Then I make sure the right people fill that vacuum."

Lucien smirked slightly. "Now you're thinking ahead." He stood up, adjusting his coat. "That's what I wanted to hear."

Aldric narrowed his eyes. "You did that on purpose."

Lucien chuckled. "You catch on fast." He turned to leave but paused at the door. "I'll handle the cleanup after the battle. Just don't get yourself killed before we see this through."

Aldric snorted. "I should be telling you that."

Lucien smirked and walked out without another word.

Alone, Aldric turned back to the map, not just thinking about the upcoming battle—but everything beyond it.

This wasn't just a military victory.

It was a political game.

And he intended to win.