As Elara entered, the middle-aged man's demeanor shifted dramatically. The previously imposing figure now wore a servile smile, his posture changing as he bowed deeply, taking several quick steps forward before dropping to his knees with a thud, greeting Elara with utmost respect.
"Greetings from your most loyal servant Garrick."
The transformation was so sudden and complete that it left the tavern's staff dumbfounded. Garrick, with his tall and robust physique, looked almost comical in his obsequiousness, a stark contrast to his earlier posture of authority. However, the humor of the situation was lost on the onlookers. Instead, Garrick's performance served only to underscore the strength and dominance that Elara wielded, and the huge distance between normal people and Ascenders.
Her presence commanded respect, not through ostentation but through an undeniable aura of power that she carried. The tavern, filled with the usual hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses, had become a theater where the dynamics of power and loyalty played out in stark relief. Elara, at the center of this silent drama, remained unfazed, her focus undiverted by the spectacle of submission presented by Garrick.
This moment, unfolding within the simple walls of the tavern, was a microcosm of the larger world outside, where allegiances shifted like sand and power was the only true currency. Elara's calm amidst the sudden shift in Garrick's behavior spoke volumes of her experience and expectation of such displays of fealty. It was a reminder to all present of the intricate dance of power, respect, and fear that governed the lives of those entangled in the web of nobility and service.
Elara's ability to command such immediate and unequivocal submission was not just a testament to her own strength but also a warning to any who might dare to underestimate or challenge her. The tavern, for a moment, became a stage for a silent assertion of dominance, a demonstration of the unwritten rules that governed their society.
Elara, ignoring Garrick kneeling on the floor, fixed her gaze unwaveringly on Aidan. She strode up to his table with determined steps, her tone sharp and challenging, "So you're Aidan? Seems like you're enjoying your meal quite a bit. Hmm, ever had a taste of a fist, though? I could let you try that flavor; might be even more to your liking."
Despite her provocative words, Elara did not immediately resort to violence. Something about Aidan's composed demeanor struck her as odd. Could it be that he had a powerful supporter hidden in the shadows?
"But that doesn't add up," she pondered internally, having done her homework before confronting him. "From what I've gathered, Aidan is quite the underdog—unloved by his uncle, abandoned by his aunt, orphaned at a young age, and pushed out of his own home. And with his mediocre talent, what kind of support could a boy like that possibly have?"
Despite her skepticism, Elara couldn't shake off the feeling that something was amiss. "There's a saying: 'Where there's smoke, there's fire.' This situation reeks of secrecy, and I need to probe further."
With these thoughts swirling in her mind, Elara remained outwardly calm, her stance imposing yet not overly aggressive, signaling her readiness to escalate if provoked but also her intent to understand the enigma that was Aidan. This was not just a confrontation; it was a calculated attempt to unravel the mystery behind Aidan's unnerving tranquility, to decipher whether his nonchalance was a facade or a testament to unseen strengths or alliances. The tavern, once a place of leisure, had now become a chessboard, with Elara and Aidan poised as players in a game of power, secrets, and survival.
Aidan's chuckle and sidelong glance at Elara, followed by his pointed question, instantly sowed a seed of doubt in the confrontation.
"Who told you I'm Aidan?"
Elara, taken aback, quickly turned her scrutinizing gaze towards Garrick. The servant, who had momentarily regained his composure, found himself overcome by nervousness once again, kneeling down as he struggled to form a coherent response. "My lady, I... I..."
The existence of a portrait of Aidan, coupled with the well-known fact that Aidan and Ewan were identical twins, complicated matters significantly. "No wonder this young man seems so bold and unafraid—it appears we've mistaken him for Aidan." the surrounding servants speculated, whispering among themselves.
The distinction between the brothers was stark. Aidan, with merely 33 Ascension Sigils, was considered a Radiant-tier ascender—a modest talent, unaffiliated and unsupported. In contrast, Ewan was recognized as a Celestial-tier prodigy, his exceptional potential acknowledged by the king himself during the Ascension Ceremony, adopting him as a foster son. Ewan's future, seemingly boundless, stood in sharp contrast to Aidan's solitary path.
Elara, receiving no clear confirmation from Garrick, found herself grappling with uncertainty. The revelation that they might have misidentified Ewan as Aidan highlighted not just the physical resemblance between the twins but also the vastly different trajectories their lives had taken. The initial assumption of confronting Aidan, based on Garrick's identification, now appeared to be a significant oversight.
This moment of hesitation exposed the intricacies of their society's hierarchy and the importance of understanding and recognizing the nuances within it. For Elara, a figure of authority and power, the mistake of potentially accusing the wrong brother necessitated a cautious reevaluation of her approach. The dynamics of power, prestige, and familial ties within the castle were delicate, and a misstep could have far-reaching consequences.
The tavern, once a backdrop to a seemingly straightforward confrontation, had transformed into a complex stage where the threads of identity, status, and misunderstanding intertwined. As Elara stood amidst the silent onlookers, her resolve to protect her brother mingled with the realization that the world they navigated was filled with shadows and mirrors, where appearances could deceive and truths were often hidden just beneath the surface.
Having finished his meal, Aidan rose leisurely from his seat, casting a nonchalant glance at Elara. "You're looking for Aidan, aren't you? Follow me, then. I'll take you to the academy to find him."
Elara found herself at a crossroads of thought. "If this person before me is Ewan, I have no wish to offend him. But if he's Aidan, following him closely will prevent any chance of deceit." In a moment, she made her decision.
"Alright, I'll accompany you to the academy. After you," Elara gestured with an open palm, stepping aside to create a path, her eyes gleaming with determination.
With a casual smile, Aidan led the way, his posture confident. Elara followed close behind, with her entourage of household servants trailing in an orderly procession.
The group arrived at the academy's entrance, a place of learning and a hub of activity during the day, now quieter under the evening sky. The journey from the tavern to the academy had been tense yet silent, each party lost in their own thoughts, contemplating the forthcoming encounter.
Elara's mind was a whirlwind of strategy and speculation. The potential implications of this meeting were not lost on her; whether the young man leading her was Aidan or Ewan, the outcome would undoubtedly ripple through their social circles. For Aidan, the enigmatic figure at the center of this unfolding drama, the journey was a chess move in a larger game, his motivations and plans cloaked in secrecy.
As they stood before the academy, the gateway to knowledge and the crucible of future leaders, the weight of the moment settled upon them. What lay ahead was uncertain—a test of wit, will, and identity that could alter the course of their intertwined destinies. The quiet before the academy was deceptive, a calm before the storm of revelations and consequences that would soon unfold.
"Halt, who goes there?"
"Stop, the academy of the castle is only open to the ascenders residing within our walls," announced two guards at the entrance, effectively blocking the path for Aidan, Elara, and their entourage.
"Insolence! You do not recognize me? How dare you block my path," Elara's gaze swept over the two men as she reprimanded them sharply.
"My apologies," the guards immediately bowed in respect.
"Lady Elara, we hold you in the highest regard. However, the castle rules are clear and must be followed. If you wish, we can allow you to bring in one servant with you. That's the furthest extent to which we can bend the rules," one of the more seasoned guards responded respectfully.
Elara let out a cold huff. Though reluctant, she knew better than to outright defy the rules laid down by the castle. The influence of the Grand Duke was indeed powerful, yet it also made them a target for many. Beyond the Grand Duke's authority, there were other powers at play, including the Archbishop's and even the King's factions.
Caught in this web of power dynamics, Elara understood that any overt challenge to the established order could have far-reaching implications, not just for her but for her entire family. The balance of power within the castle was delicate, with each faction constantly vying for influence and control.
Reluctantly, she turned to her followers, her mind quickly calculating the best course of action. This moment was not just about gaining entry to the academy; it was a display of power, authority, and the ability to navigate the intricate political landscape that defined their lives.
"Fine," she finally said, her voice betraying a hint of annoyance. "But mark my words, this matter is far from over."
"You all stay here, Garrick, you're with me," Elara decided after a moment of thought.
Garrick immediately straightened up, his face lighting up with joy. "Thank you for your trust, Lady Elara!"
"Let's go, junior," Elara said to Aidan, her smile carrying a deeper meaning.
Aidan's expression remained unbothered as he led the way.
Arriving at the dormitory door, he unlocked it and pushed it open. He took a step inside, then halted.
With the door wide open, the room's simplicity and austerity were plainly visible. It was devoid of any other presence.
Standing at the doorway, Elara glanced inside, her expression darkening slightly. "Junior, you'd better have a good explanation. There's nobody here!"
Aidan offered a slight smile. "Am I not here?"
Elara fixed her gaze on Aidan, her eyes flickering with realization. "The person I'm looking for is Aidan!"
Aidan chuckled softly. "I never said I wasn't Aidan."
The revelation hung in the air, a subtle game of words and identities unfolding between them. Elara, seeking answers and accountability, found herself confronting Aidan, who, with his calm demeanor and careful choice of words, challenged her assumptions and expectations.
This exchange, more than a mere confrontation, was a testament to the complex interplay of power, perception, and identity within their society. Elara, with her direct approach and authoritative presence, faced Aidan, whose strength lay in his subtlety and ability to navigate the nuances of conversation and confrontation.
As the moment stretched between them, filled with unspoken questions and challenges, the dynamics of their interaction shifted. It was clear that this was not just about finding Aidan or Ewan but about uncovering the layers of strategy, resilience, and hidden strength that defined them both. The room, empty of others but filled with the tension of their encounter, became a battleground of wits, where words were weapons and understanding the prize.