Chapter 5: The Man Who Watches

They walked until dawn.

Ethan's legs ached with every step, his body heavy with exhaustion, but neither Lysia nor Kael suggested stopping. The Retrievers might still be searching, and if they rested too long, they'd risk being caught.

By the time the sun began to rise, they had reached the outskirts of Velmire, a lawless trade city on the empire's southern border.

Ethan knew this place well.

In Eclipse of the Eternal Empire, Velmire was a den of criminals, mercenaries, and exiled nobles. Spies and bounty hunters lingered in every alley, and loyalty was always for sale.

It was dangerous. But if they wanted to survive, they needed to disappear—and Velmire was the perfect place to vanish.

Lysia pulled the hood of her cloak over her head, her posture stiff.

"We'll find an inn," she murmured. "Rest. Regroup."

Ethan nodded.

Then, as they moved through the crowded streets, he saw him.

Seran Durell.

Ethan's breath caught in his throat.

The man was impossible to miss.

Tall, broad-shouldered, with sharp, calculating eyes that seemed to see everything. His imperial uniform was pristine, his silver insignia gleaming in the morning light.

Seran was standing on the balcony of an estate overlooking the market, speaking with another noble.

Casual. Relaxed.

But Ethan knew better.

Seran Durell wasn't here by accident.

He was watching. Studying.

Ethan felt cold sweat drip down his back.

Seran wasn't supposed to be in Velmire. Not yet.

In the book, he didn't make his first major move for another year.

But here he was.

And then—

Seran's eyes flickered downward.

Straight to Ethan.

For a moment, Ethan couldn't move.

Then Seran smirked.

It was small. Barely noticeable. But it was meant for him.

He knows.

Ethan's pulse thundered in his ears.

Seran knew something was wrong with the story.

And worse—he was already looking for Ethan.

Ethan forced himself to keep walking.

His heartbeat pounded in his ears, but he didn't look back at Seran. Didn't run. Running would only confirm that he was afraid.

Think.

Seran Durell wasn't supposed to be in Velmire. Not for another year.

Yet here he was, standing exactly where Ethan had chosen to hide. Watching him.

Does he know who I am?

No. Impossible.

Seran had no reason to suspect Ethan. To him, Ethan was just a nameless soldier who barely survived a battle.

But then why had Seran smirked at him?

Why did it feel like he was already ten steps ahead?

Ethan swallowed his nerves. He needed answers.

And there was only one way to get them.

He had to get close to Seran before Seran got close to him.

Velmire's wealthy district was surrounded by high stone walls, separating the rich from the criminals below. Ethan knew that one of these noble estates belonged to House Verrentis—a minor branch of Lysia's family.

And tonight, they were hosting a gathering.

The perfect opportunity to eavesdrop.

Lysia was skeptical when Ethan suggested sneaking inside, but Kael was already halfway through stealing invitations before she could object.

That was how, an hour later, Ethan found himself in the middle of an imperial banquet, dressed in clothes that didn't belong to him.

The air smelled of wine and roasted venison. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting golden light over dozens of nobles draped in silk and jewelry.

And among them—

Seran Durell.

Ethan spotted him instantly, standing near a grand marble staircase, a glass of wine in hand. He wasn't alone—several minor nobles and military officers surrounded him, eager for his attention.

Ethan took a slow breath.

Blend in. Listen. Don't draw attention.

But before he could move—

"Are you enjoying the party?"

The voice was smooth, confident. Too close.

Ethan's entire body locked up.

Seran Durell was standing right beside him.

Ethan turned, masking his tension with an easy smile.

"Hard not to," he said lightly, gesturing at the extravagant room. "Good food, good wine."

Seran smiled back. But his eyes—they were watching too closely.

"You're not a noble," Seran said casually. "You carry yourself like a soldier."

Ethan kept his expression relaxed. "I served at Fort Ironwood."

Seran hummed. "Ah. The fallen fort."

There was something too smooth, too practiced in his voice. Like he was testing a theory.

Ethan couldn't afford to hesitate.

"Barely made it out," he said, shaking his head. "Shame what happened."

Seran took a slow sip of wine.

"Yes," he murmured. "Shame."

A pause.

Then—Seran smiled again.

"But I do love surprises."

Ethan's fingers curled into a fist.

That wasn't just small talk.

That was a warning.

Seran knew something was wrong. He didn't know exactly what, not yet—but he was looking.

And Ethan had just stepped into his sights.

Ethan pulled away from Seran as soon as he could.

He moved deeper into the noble gathering, weaving between clusters of politicians and military officers, pretending to admire the extravagant tapestries lining the walls.

His heart was still racing.

Seran knew something was wrong.

Not just about Fort Ironwood—about Ethan.

Seran's words echoed in his mind.

"But I do love surprises."

He had been testing Ethan. Waiting to see how he would react.

I can't slip up again.

But before Ethan could plan his next move, the first scream split through the banquet hall.

Ethan spun toward the sound—just in time to see a nobleman collapse onto the floor.

Blood pooled beneath his body.

Gasps and shrieks rang out across the hall. Guards rushed forward, nobles stepped back, hands covering their mouths in horror.

Ethan's stomach twisted.

This wasn't just any nobleman.

This was Lord Aldryn Verrentis.

An influential cousin of the emperor. A man who—in the novel—lived for another three years.

But now?

He was dead.

Ethan's hands clenched.

This didn't happen in the book.

Ethan forced himself to watch Seran Durell.

Most of the nobles were in shock. The guards were shouting, trying to secure the area.

But Seran?

He just stood there. Calm. Silent. Watching.

And then—he smiled.

Ethan felt a chill crawl up his spine.

Because that wasn't the expression of someone caught off guard.

That was the expression of someone who had been expecting this.

Ethan's mind raced.

Lord Aldryn's death wasn't in the novel. His assassination was never part of the empire's downfall.

Which meant—

The world was rewriting itself.

And Seran Durell was already ahead of the new script.

Ethan hadn't just lost his advantage.

He was now the one who didn't know what came next.

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