Chapter Twelve: Aftermath

The city breathed with an energy that Raymond had felt before—one that only followed moments of spectacle. Whispers of the duel had already spread through the noble districts, weaving into the fabric of court politics like fresh ink on parchment. Some called him a rising force. Others saw him as a dangerous disruptor.

Raymond, however, felt none of it. He only felt the pain.

The duel had left its mark. Every movement sent a dull ache through his side, the reopened wound throbbing with every step. Pain was a familiar companion, one he had learned to ignore. It was never the pain that worried him—it was the consequences.

House Valner would not sit idle.

Dorian had lost before an audience of the most influential people in the kingdom. His pride had shattered on that field, and Raymond had no illusions that the nobleman would simply accept it. Revenge would come. Perhaps not today. Perhaps not tomorrow. But it would come.

And Raymond needed to be ready.

The streets bustled as he walked toward Ethan's estate, accompanied by two of Ethan's guards. Even in the early evening haze, he could feel the occasional stare—some awed, some wary, some watching too closely.

They're waiting to see what happens next.

A duel was one thing. What followed it was another.

Ethan had prepared a meal, though it was clear neither of them had much appetite. The duel still lingered between them, unspoken but ever-present.

"You've drawn attention," Ethan said, pushing a goblet toward Raymond, who took it with a silent nod.

"I'm aware."

Ethan leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face. "No, I don't think you understand. The court is buzzing. The Valners had positioned themselves carefully for months, and you just—" he made a slicing motion across his throat, "—cut straight through it."

Raymond took a slow sip of wine. "They'll recover."

Ethan frowned. "They'll retaliate."

Raymond nodded, having already expected as much. "And when they do, I'll be ready."

Ethan studied him for a moment. Then he sighed. "You don't seem surprised."

"I'm not."

Ethan shook his head, muttering, "Of course not. Always two steps ahead, aren't you?" He downed his own drink before leaning forward. "Fine. What's your next move?"

Raymond had already considered that question. The duel had solidified his place—but a place meant nothing without leverage. He needed resources, allies, and most importantly, money.

"There's something I need to retrieve," Raymond said.

Ethan raised an eyebrow. "That vague 'something' again?"

Raymond's fingers tapped idly against his goblet. He had mentioned the item before, but never in detail. He could still feel it—just as he had in previous regressions. That item. The thing he had once found, the thing that had saved him before. He didn't know exactly what it was yet in this life, but he knew where to find it.

And this time, he wasn't leaving without it.

"I know where to find it," Raymond finally said. "I just need to get there."

Ethan sighed but didn't argue. "And let me guess, it's in some godforsaken ruin?"

"More or less."

Ethan rubbed his temples. "Gods, why do I even ask?"

Before the conversation could continue, a knock at the door interrupted them. Ethan glanced at Raymond before standing and opening it.

A messenger stood at the threshold, a boy dressed in the livery of House Darrow.

Ethan took the letter and dismissed the messenger before breaking the seal. His eyes flicked across the parchment, and his frown deepened.

"What is it?" Raymond asked.

Ethan exhaled. "Lord Darrow is requesting your presence. Tonight."

Raymond's grip on his goblet tightened slightly. "Why?"

"Apparently," Ethan said, tossing the letter onto the table, "there's been an incident."

Raymond's eyes narrowed. He didn't like vague words like 'incident.'

Ethan continued, "Darrow's words, not mine. Something happened, and whatever it is, it's tied to House Valner."

The duel had only ended hours ago. And already, the ripples were turning into waves.

Raymond stood. "Then we should go."

Ethan sighed again, pushing himself up. "You just fought a duel. Maybe take one damn night to recover?"

Raymond glanced at him. "Would they?"

Ethan cursed under his breath but didn't argue. "Fine. But if you collapse on me, I'm not carrying you."

House Darrow's estate loomed against the city's skyline, a fortress of political power. The guards let them through with little fuss, leading them to a dimly lit chamber where Lord Darrow himself awaited.

Darrow was a man in his late fifties, his once-powerful frame now softened by age, but his eyes were sharp. He gestured for them to sit, his face unreadable.

Raymond and Ethan took their seats.

Darrow wasted no time. "House Valner has moved quickly," he said, his voice calm but carrying weight. "There was an attack tonight."

Raymond's fingers curled slightly against the table. "On who?"

Darrow leaned forward. "One of our allies. A merchant tied to my house was ambushed on the road—by men wearing Valner colors."

Ethan's expression darkened. "They aren't even hiding it?"

Darrow shook his head. "No. And that's what concerns me. This wasn't just revenge. This was a message." His gaze settled on Raymond. "And I believe that message was meant for you."

Raymond didn't react outwardly. But inside, he felt something shift.

This was no longer about a duel. This was war.

Darrow continued, "House Valner isn't just reacting to your victory. They're escalating. And I need to know—" his eyes narrowed slightly, "—what you intend to do about it."

The room was silent.

Raymond exhaled slowly, his mind already turning. If House Valner wanted war, then war is what they would get.

But on his terms.

He met Darrow's gaze, and for the first time that night, he allowed himself a small, sharp smile.

"I intend," Raymond said, "to make them regret it."