50- Shadows Unveiled

The war room in Marquis Gustov Eisenhardt's estate was filled with the last round of discussions regarding the division of Velthorn's spoils. The long wooden table was covered with reports, maps, and sealed letters, while the men gathered around it made their final negotiations.

Aldric sat at the head, calm yet firm. Flanking him were Tobias, Mara, Red, Gerrod, and Royce. On the other side, Marquis Gustov leaned back, observing with an amused smirk.

"The armory's stockpiles have been sorted," Tobias reported. "Velthorn had a decent cache of weapons, mostly well-maintained, but nothing extraordinary."

"The most valuable find," Mara added, tapping a list with her gloved fingers, "is the mithril-lined plate armor and siege ballistae."

Aldric turned to Gustov. "Your lands are the first line of defense if war breaks out. Those will stay with you."

The Marquis raised a brow before chuckling. "Smart boy. I was about to demand them anyway."

Aldric smirked. "Then I saved us both the trouble."

Royce grinned, leaning against the table. "You two are starting to sound alike."

Gustov ignored him and took a sip of wine. "And what of the gold and supplies?"

Tobias placed another parchment on the table. "They've been divided as planned. Our forces now have enough funds to sustain operations without immediate concern."

Gustov scanned the document before nodding. "Good."

"And the land?" he asked next.

Aldric leaned back in his chair. "I've taken half of Velthorn's lands, the portion neighboring Ravensbourne. My men will begin fortifying the border towns immediately."

Gustov let out a low chuckle. "You're moving fast, Aldric."

"We don't have time to waste," Aldric said simply. "With the civil war on the horizon, these lands are better off in our hands than left vulnerable."

Gustov studied him for a moment before shaking his head in amusement. "At this rate, you'll be a Duke before long."

Aldric merely smirked, offering no comment.

With the final agreements settled, Aldric and his men departed two weeks later, returning to Ravensbourne.

⸻

The ride home was long, but Aldric used the time wisely. He drafted a detailed letter to his father, Duke Alaric Ravensbourne, and his brother, Lucien. The letter outlined:

• The fall of Velthorn.

• Casualties sustained.

• The division of war spoils.

• The brewing conflict between the Crown Prince and Second Prince.

• The newly acquired Velthorn lands bordering Ravensbourne.

By the time they reached the castle gates, the household was already prepared for their arrival.

Inside the great hall, Duke Alaric Ravensbourne stood waiting, his posture composed, his eyes sharp. Beside him, Lucien Ravensbourne smirked as Aldric dismounted.

"Took your time," Lucien said with a smirk.

Aldric chuckled, removing his riding gloves. "Had to make sure things were properly settled."

The Duke's gaze flickered between his son and his men. "Come."

⸻

Inside the Duke's study, Alaric poured two cups of wine, placing one in front of Aldric. The room was dimly lit, lined with bookshelves and war maps, creating an air of quiet authority.

Aldric accepted the cup but set it aside. "Velthorn is ours. The Crown Prince knows, but he won't act yet. He has bigger concerns."

Alaric nodded. "The civil war."

"Yes. Hadrian and Cassius are both preparing, but given the kingdom's current infrastructure, logistics, and governance, it will take another year or two before actual war begins."

Alaric exhaled. "Then we have time."

Aldric nodded. "Which is why I took Velthorn's border lands. They will act as a natural buffer."

The Duke studied him. "And you will fortify them?"

Aldric smirked. "Of course. The people need reassurance that they are now under Ravensbourne protection."

Alaric leaned back, nodding. "A wise decision."

A pause stretched between them before Aldric suddenly smiled knowingly at his father.

"Also," he said, his tone light yet pointed, "thank you."

Alaric raised an eyebrow. "For what?"

Aldric swirled his wine. "For watching over me in the shadows."

The Duke's expression remained unreadable, but there was the slightest shift in his demeanor.

Aldric's smirk widened. "The 'mercenaries' I hired… they were too skilled. Too disciplined. Too coordinated." He took a slow sip. "It took me a week to be certain, but I knew."

Alaric remained silent, waiting.

Aldric leaned back. "I ran a test. Fed them false information about an ambush. If they were real mercenaries, they would have responded accordingly. Instead…" He tapped his fingers against his glass.

"…they reacted as if they already knew more than they should have."

Alaric exhaled softly, rubbing his temple. "I knew you'd figure it out eventually. I just didn't know when."

Aldric chuckled. "And here I thought you'd keep pretending."

Alaric studied him. "You're not angry?"

Aldric shrugged. "Why would I be? They're loyal to me now."

A flicker of approval passed through Alaric's eyes. "Then you will keep them?"

"They are far too valuable to cast aside," Aldric said. "And I trust them."

The Duke finally smirked. "Then you have passed another test."

Aldric's smirk didn't fade.

⸻

The moment of amusement faded as Alaric leaned forward. "The civil war… it will not be avoidable. What is your next move?"

Aldric's eyes sharpened, his tone calculated and firm.

"We don't get involved."

The Duke's brow lifted slightly, intrigued.

Aldric continued. "Hadrian and Cassius will tear each other apart in their fight for the throne. That's not our problem." He leaned forward. "Our priority is Ravensbourne and our allies."

Alaric nodded slowly. "So, while they wage war…"

"…we prosper," Aldric finished.

He tapped the table.

"While their armies bleed each other dry, we strengthen our forces, secure our borders, and expand our influence. By the time one of them wins, they'll be too weak to challenge us."

Alaric smirked. "Clever."

Aldric's gaze darkened. "I refuse to let our lands be another battlefield for their ambitions."

The Duke raised his glass in approval. "Then let us prepare."

Aldric met his father's gaze and lifted his own cup.

The future belonged to the patient.

———

As the heavy doors of the Duke's study creaked shut, leaving Alaric Ravensbourne alone, the air in the room shifted. It was subtle—like a whisper against the senses—but Alaric was no ordinary man.

"You may come out now, Vaynal."

From the dim candlelight of the chamber, a shadow unraveled, forming into the shape of a man cloaked in darkness. His movements were fluid, precise—too refined for an ordinary assassin.

Vaynal, the First Shadow, knelt before his lord.

"My Duke," he said, his voice solemn. "I apologize."

Alaric raised a brow, swirling the wine in his glass. "For what?"

"The boy," Vaynal admitted. "I have failed. Aldric discovered us far too quickly. The others, too… He uncovered their identities in a mere week. I… should have trained them better."

Alaric chuckled, setting his drink aside. He regarded his loyal assassin with a knowing gaze.

"Do not be so harsh on yourself, Vaynal. I expected him to find out."

Vaynal looked up, his expression unreadable. "But… this soon?"

The Duke leaned back, thoughtful. "No. I assumed a year at most. Perhaps a few months if he were particularly observant. But a week?" His lips curled slightly. "That even surprised me."

There was a pause before Alaric exhaled through his nose, a glimmer of amusement and pride flickering in his sharp, silver eyes.

"That boy… he truly is something else."

⸻

Vaynal hesitated before speaking again. "My Duke, there is something else."

Alaric studied him. "Go on."

The assassin's fingers curled slightly, as if trying to grasp something intangible.

"His aura… has changed."

Alaric narrowed his eyes. "Changed? How so?"

"I was watching him just now, hidden within your study." Vaynal's voice lowered, as if recalling something unnerving. "He noticed me, but chose not to reveal it."

Alaric hummed. That alone was telling.

Vaynal clenched his fist. "But that's not what disturbed me. When I observed him, I felt something I couldn't understand. It was… both familiar and foreign."

Alaric leaned forward, intrigued. "Explain."

Vaynal frowned. "It was like mana—but not. Like aura—but different. It felt like a force that combined the two, yet clashed at the same time."

Silence fell between them.

Alaric's mind turned.

Mana and aura were fundamentally different. Mages and knights could wield their respective powers, but never both. The two forces repelled one another, making it impossible for someone to wield them in harmony.

And yet…

Vaynal's next words deepened the mystery.

"The feeling I got from him," the assassin said quietly, "was like a storm on the verge of erupting."

Alaric exhaled slowly. "I see…"

⸻

The Duke reached for a stack of reports on his desk—the detailed accounts written by Mara, Red, Tobias, and the other Shadows stationed under Aldric.

As he read through their observations, his expression sharpened.

Aldric had wielded magic like a seasoned mage—casting with speed and precision—yet he fought in close combat like a knight.

Spell after spell, sword against blade, he tore through his enemies like a force of nature.

The way the reports described it…

It was like a legend was being born.

Alaric handed the papers to Vaynal. "Read."

The assassin took them, scanning the words. His gaze flickered, absorbing the unbelievable details.

"…If this is accurate, then Aldric is… something beyond both mage and knight," Vaynal muttered.

Alaric stood and turned to the bookshelves behind him, his fingers gliding across ancient tomes. He searched until he found it—a dust-covered book buried among forgotten records.

With a soft thud, he set it on the table and opened it. The pages were old, yellowed with time.

His eyes darkened as he read.

⸻

A few hundred years ago, during a war against an ancient being, both knights and mages sought a way to surpass their limits.

Desperation drove them to unthinkable experiments.

They discovered a way to forge a Mana Circle within a Knight's Aura Core.

A fusion of two opposing forces.

For a short time, these warriors became living weapons.

Knights gained the destructive power of mages.

Mages gained the physical prowess of knights.

But… there was a price.

The power burned them away.

Their bodies, unable to contain the conflicting forces, would eventually disintegrate.

For a few minutes, they were unstoppable.

Then, they were gone.

Alaric's grip tightened on the book.

The method had been deemed impossible and was ultimately abandoned. The war had been won, but at the cost of countless sacrifices.

And now…

He closed the tome, his mind spinning.

Could it be…?

⸻

Alaric turned to Vaynal, his voice calm but grave.

"When I looked at Aldric earlier," he murmured, "I felt something faint. Something… familiar."

Vaynal's eyes flickered. "You think he is…"

Alaric didn't answer immediately.

Instead, he exhaled.

"…It is too soon to say."

Alaric let out a slow breath, his fingers still resting on the ancient tome. The implications of what he had just read—and what he had sensed from Aldric—could not be ignored.

After a long pause, he turned his gaze back to Vaynal, his silver eyes now sharp with intent.

"You will go to him," Alaric commanded.

Vaynal straightened. "My lord?"

"You will take this book," Alaric tapped the dust-covered tome, "and deliver it to Aldric personally."

Vaynal hesitated. "You… want me to warn him?"

Alaric's jaw tightened. "He must understand the danger of the path he is walking. Whether he has stumbled upon it by chance or by instinct, this power is not one to be wielded carelessly."

Vaynal nodded, accepting the tome with both hands. "And if he refuses to listen?"

Alaric exhaled through his nose, eyes dark with thought. "Then let him make his own choice. But at the very least, he will not be ignorant of the cost."

The room fell silent.

Vaynal bowed, stepping back into the shadows until he vanished.

Alaric leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes briefly.

Aldric was strong. But even strength had its limits.

And if his son was truly walking this forbidden path…

He would need to prepare for what was to come.