Tensions In The Capital

Elias' gaze met Lucian Varian's as the noble smirked, his sharp silver eyes gleaming with confidence.

"Lucian Varian," Elias repeated, his tone neutral. He had expected to run into someone from the Varian clan eventually, but to meet one so soon—and to have him approach first—was an annoyance.

Lucian's expression soured the moment Elias spoke. His smirk faded, replaced by a look of barely concealed disdain. "Raelith," he muttered, as if the name itself left a foul taste in his mouth. His eyes scanned Elias from head to toe, unimpressed. "I should have known. Only someone from a lesser clan would wander the Capital with such little presence."

Darius tensed beside Elias, his hand instinctively resting near his weapon, but Elias raised a hand, signaling him to stand down. He had no interest in escalating things—at least, not yet.

"Is there a problem with my clan's presence in the Capital?" Elias asked, meeting Lucian's gaze head-on.

Lucian scoffed. "Your clan? Please. The Raelith clan has no presence in the Capital. You lot should know your place and stay in whatever forgotten corner of the world you crawled out of."

A few bystanders glanced their way, sensing the tension. The name Varian carried weight here, and Elias knew that openly arguing with Lucian wouldn't earn him any favors.

Before Elias could respond, a commotion erupted further down the street. A group of armored enforcers surrounded a merchant stall, their presence heavy and oppressive. The merchant, an elderly man with a long gray beard, pleaded with them, his voice trembling. "Please, I've paid all the required fees! I have the proper permits!"

One of the enforcers sneered. "Your papers mean nothing if the clan overseeing this district decides otherwise." He knocked over a crate of expensive fabrics, sending them spilling onto the stone street. "You're lucky we don't confiscate everything."

Elias frowned. The situation was all too familiar—those in power exploiting the weak simply because they could. His fists clenched at his sides, but before he could move, Lucian let out a disinterested sigh.

"Ah, the Capital never changes," Lucian mused. "Some people simply don't know their place."

That was the last push Elias needed. Without hesitation, he stepped forward, approaching the enforcers.

"Enough," he said, his voice steady but firm. "The merchant has provided his permits. If you're claiming otherwise, then show proof."

The enforcers turned, momentarily caught off guard by the interruption. They looked Elias over, then spotted Darius standing close behind him. Recognition flickered in their eyes. Darius Raelith wasn't an unknown name—he was a warrior, a knight, and though the Raelith clan wasn't powerful in the Capital, they still held noble status.

One of the enforcers cleared his throat. "This is none of your concern, noble or not."

Elias took another step forward. "It is if I say it is."

The tension in the air thickened. Lucian watched from the sidelines, amused but uninterested. The enforcers, weighing their options, ultimately backed off with a few grumbles, walking away without another word.

The merchant sighed in relief and quickly bowed. "Thank you, young lord. You have my deepest gratitude."

Elias only nodded before turning back toward Lucian, who regarded him with an unreadable expression.

"You're bold," Lucian remarked, though there was no praise in his tone. "But boldness without strength is meaningless." He smirked again, the disdain back in his eyes. "Let's see if you can back it up during the entrance exams… if you even make it past the first stage."

With that, Lucian turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Elias standing amidst the murmuring crowd.

Darius exhaled. "You've made yourself a target."

Elias smirked slightly. "I already was."