-A Week Ago - Crown Prince's Office-
In the heart of the Royal Palace, sunlight spilled across the gilded walls of Crown Prince Keal's private office. Keal sat behind his desk, his emerald-green eyes sharp as he reviewed the documents before him.
Ryan, his trusted Aide, stood nearby, ready to offer insight when required. Royal knight captain Killion, clad in his polished armor, stood at attention, a stack of reports in hand.
Killion broke the silence. "Your Highness, this report details the intercepted correspondence between certain nobles and foreign kingdoms. It's treason, no doubt, and it's widespread."
Keal frowned, his fingers tapping the desk. "How many are involved?"
"We've identified patterns but lack specific names. However, one messenger has been captured. He's in the dungeons and may hold the answers we need," Killion started to explain everything that had happened to the investigation when they started.
Ryan spoke, "And the Shadow Weaver Guild, Your Highness? Their master's identity remains unknown, but their reach grows with every passing day." Ryan's eyes narrowed and passing the documents to the Crown Prince.
Keal's gaze darkened. "We can't allow these threats to fester. Ryan, allocate more resources to tracking the Shadow Weaver's Master's."
"And Killion, bring out every piece of information from that messenger. I want results—no excuses."
Both men bowed, their resolve noticeable. The Crown Prince's commands left no room for failure.
---
Royal Library In the present--
Nadia Valmont strolled through the Royal Library's grand halls, her elegant lavender gown brushing against the stainless marble floors. Her movements were deliberate, each step carrying her closer to the section on forbidden knowledge.
She had been chasing answers for weeks, ever since the incident with her father's shadow army. The deaths of the knights hadn't been natural—she was certain of it. The whispers of magic lingered in the air like a curse.
Her fingers traced the spines of ancient tomes before settling on one titled Arcane Veils. Before she could pull it free, a soft voice startled her.
"Lady Valmont," the librarian said, bowing slightly. "May I assist you with your research?"
"No," she replied curtly, masking her unease. "I'll manage on my own." The librarian nodded and retreated, leaving Nadia to her thoughts. She holds the book tightly, her determination unwavering.
---
Beneath the golden rays of the late morning sun, Elara sat gracefully surrounded by the blooming gardens of her family estate. The gentle rustle of leaves and the sweet fragrance of flowers surrounded her as Calantha and Eirlys lined her sides. It was a rare sight—the three sisters together in such composure, though the calm air hinted at unspoken questions.
Breaking the silence, Calantha, Elara's youngest sister, leaned forward, her expression both hesitant and curious. "Sister… Lara, may I ask you something? Will you answer me honestly?"
Elara's crimson eyes shifted to her, a faint smirk playing on her lips. "Would you stop if I said no?" she replied, her tone sharp yet teasing. Caught off guard,
Calantha paused; her cheeks painted pink. "I'll ask anyway," she said softly. Elara raised an eyebrow, gesturing for her to continue.
"Where have you been all these years?" Calantha's voice wavered slightly. "Why didn't you reach out to us? And… where is Brother Cassius?"
Elara tilted her head, her expression unreadable as she lifted her teacup. Taking a delicate sip, she finally spoke, her voice cold and distant. "So many questions, all at once? But tell me, Calantha, does it matter where I was or why I didn't contact you?"
Her words were sharp enough to make Calantha shrink, the weight of her sister's tone silencing her. Setting her teacup down, Elara's gaze grew distant, as though staring into memories long buried.
"The truth is… I don't remember where I was. Those years are a haze, fragments of a life that feel like they belong to someone else. As for Cassius…" She hesitated briefly. "I haven't heard from him in over a year, but he'll return so soon."
The atmosphere grew heavier with her words, and for a moment, none spoke. Sensing the tension, Eirlys, ever the peacemaker, placed a comforting hand on Calantha's shoulder and smiled gently.
"Let's not dwell on the past, Cally. What's important is that she's here now. They are safe. So, there's no need to dig into old wounds."
"You're right," Calantha murmured, her tone softer this time, though her expression remained guarded.
Eirlys turned to Calantha, her voice lighter, breaking the gloomy mood. "By the way, when are you heading back to the academy? Isn't it about time?"
Calantha brightened instantly, her earlier unease melting away. "In two days," she said with a playful grin. "And you both are coming to see me off, right?"
Eirlys chuckled. "Of course. Who else will keep you company and make sure you don't get into trouble?"
The sisters shared a rare moment of laughter, the earlier tension was forgotten as their voices mingled with the soft hum of the garden.
For a brief while, it felt like they were just three sisters enjoying each other's company, even if shadows of the past still lingered in the corners of their hearts.
___
--- Viscount Rutledge's Desperate Gamble_
Edward Rutledge's study was a battlefield of latent tension and swirling tempers. The heavy oak desk, piled high with financial ledgers and scattered papers, stood as the only barrier between the viscount and the watchful eyes of his investors.
The scent of ink and parchment wafted through the room, as did the faint aroma of the brandy offered by Rutledge, but no one touched it. The air was heavy with unfulfilled promises, not cordiality.
"Gentlemen," Rutledge began, his tone measured, almost pleading, "I assure you; these ventures are not without merit. Have a little more patience, and the rewards will exceed all expectations."
A harsh sneer cut through his words. "Patience?" The voice belonged to a Gray-haired man with a beard streaked with silver threads, his eyes sharp as a hawk's. "We have waited too long, Lord Rutledge. Promises cannot pay our bills."
The Viscount's jaw tightened, though he hid his disappointment behind a strained smile. Under the table, his fists were clenched, his knuckles turning white with suppressed anger. He couldn't afford to lose his composure – especially when the walls were closing in.
"I understand your concerns," he said, calming his voice. "I'll pay you, but please wait. Great gains require calculated risks. We are on the verge of something extraordinary."
His words hung in the air, met with doubtful glances and barely concealed contempt. Routledge's gaze fell on the ledgers, their columns of red ink mocking him with every lopsided figure.
He knew he was playing a dangerous game, balancing on the edge of ruin. Failure was a luxury he couldn't afford – especially when debts were circled him like vultures, eager for the first sign of weakness.
___
*Larousse Estate*
The evening air in the mansion felt heavier than usual as Sofia Rutledge stepped into the drawing room. She was greeted by the sight of Elara, poised yet detached, sitting by the fireplace with a faint glow casting shadows across her sharp features.
Sofia's familiar smile didn't falter. "Elara," she began warmly, her tone as if nothing had changed. "It feels like ages since we last talked. I missed you, truly."
Elara glanced up, her crimson eyes calm but piercing, like embers beneath the ash. She gestured towards the chair across from her, offering no smile in return. "Yes, Take a seat, Sofia."
The lack of warmth in her voice unsettled Sofia, though she hid it well. She sat gracefully, smoothing the folds of her dress. "You've grown even more elegant, Elara. It's almost intimidating," she said with a soft laugh, trying to mask her unease.
Elara picked up her cup of tea, her fingers steady. "Time changes people, doesn't it?" she said evenly.
The Shifting Balance Sofia leaned forward slightly; her voice soft. "I hope time hasn't changed the bond we shared. You were like a sister to me once, Elara. Surely you still feel the same?"
Elara raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. "A sister?" she repeated as if testing the word. "Funny. I used to think so, too."
The fire crackled in the silence that followed. Sofia's confidence wavered, her smile slipping for a fraction of a second.
"Elara, if this is about the past… Whatever misunderstandings we had, they don't matter now. We've always been close, haven't we?"
Elara leaned back in her chair, setting her cup down with deliberate care. "Close? Perhaps too close. You knew everything about me, Sofia. Every secret, every fear… enough to use against me."
Sofia's hands tightened on her lap. "I don't know what you're implying—"
"Don't you?" Elara's voice was calm, but the weight of her words was suffocating. She tilted her head, studying Sofia like a predator cornering its prey.
"Hmm...I tell you the truth is, Five years ago… the accident. I know who orchestrated it."
The Breaking Point Sofia's breath hitched, and for the first time, she couldn't hide her reaction. Her confident demeanor cracked, a flicker of panic flashing across her face.
"I—" she started, but no words followed.
Elara didn't press further. She simply smiled, a cold, knowing smile that left no room for denial. "It's fascinating," she said softly, "how guilt has a way of showing itself. Even in silence."
Sofia's face turned pale, her mask of composure slipping entirely. "Elara, what are you saying?" she said weakly, but her voice lacked conviction.
"Oh, you don't understand, my dear" Elara's tone was light, almost playful, but her eyes were anything but. She leaned forward, her gaze locking onto Sofia's. "Don't worry. I'm not interested in dragging the past into the light. Not yet."
Sofia stood abruptly, her voice trembling. "I should go. It's getting late." Elara leaned back; her expression unreadable.
"Of course. Don't let me keep you."
Sofia hesitated as if searching for something to say, but Elara's unwavering gaze silenced her. Without another word, she turned and left, her steps hurried.
Elara's Silence As the door clicked shut, Elara remained still, her expression calm but her thoughts roller-coaster. She glanced at the fire, her crimson eyes reflecting the flames. The pieces were falling into place, and Sofia was just one of many who would face their reckoning.
"They always think they can escape," Elara murmured, her voice barely audible. "But no one escapes forever." She reached for her tea, taking a slow sip. The bitterness was a comfort, a reminder of the path she had chosen. A path that Sofia Rutledge would soon regret crossing.
________________________________________
As twilight blanketed the palace in hues of crimson and gold, Keal descended the stone stairs into the cold, unwelcoming depths of the dungeons. Each step echoed ominously, accompanied by the faint drip of water seeping through the ancient walls.
The air was thick, laced with the scent of iron and damp stone. At the end of the corridor, a lone figure sat chained, his silhouette illuminated by a single flickering torch.
The messengers head was tilted slightly, a smug grin etched across his face as though he were the one holding the upper hand.
Keal approached the bars, his emerald gaze piercing through the shadows. Silence reigned for a moment, heavy and suffocating. Then, his voice cut through the stillness like a blade.
"You seem awfully pleased with yourself for a man in chains."
The messenger lifted his head, his smirk deepening. "Chains, Your Highness, are only as strong as the will that binds them. And you... you don't even know who's holding the key."
Keal's expression didn't falter, but there was a dangerous gleam in his eyes. Reaching into his cloak, he produced one of the intercepted documents. The parchment unfurled in the dim light, revealing its damning secrets.
"This," Keal began, his tone sharp and deliberate, "is proof enough to see you hang. Information sold to foreign kingdoms, plans exposed, lives endangered—and all roads lead to one name." His voice lowered, each syllable like the toll of a funeral bell.
"Edward Rutledge."
At the mention of the name, the messenger's grin widened, his defiance unshaken. "Ah, the good Viscount. Isn't it poetic? The man you trusted most, the one who stood beside your throne, now dances to another kingdom's tune."
Keal's jaw tightened, but his voice remained steady. "You think naming him absolves you of guilt? He's not the only spider in this web, is he?"
The courier's eyes gleamed with malicious amusement. "Oh, no. He's merely the architect of one corner. The real web? You're tangled in it already, Your Highness. And by the time you realize it, it'll be too late."
Keal took a step closer to the bars, his presence suffocating. "I don't deal in riddles, and I don't tolerate traitors. Whatever you and Rutledge are planning ends here."
The messenger laughed, the sound cold and mocking. "Ends? No, Your Highness. This is just the prologue."
Keal turned to Killion, who stood at his side like a silent sentinel. Without looking back, Keal's command was as firm as steel.
"Double the watch on Rutledge. Ensure no one gets near him, not even his own shadow. And if he tries to flee…" His voice dropped to a chilling whisper. "Arrested him and bring him to me alive. I'll deal with him."
Killion bowed slightly, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "It will be done."
Keal turned back to the messenger, his gaze colder than the dungeon air. "Enjoy your chains while you can. They'll be the last comfort you'll ever know."
"Oh! And you all think he is my trusted person…you'll are mistaken." He smirked.
As he strode away, the iron doors to the dungeon groaned shut behind him, leaving the messenger alone with his Shocking faced.
In the flickering torchlight, the shadows seemed to stretch further, deeper. The name Edward Rutledge hung in the air like a curse, a name that threatened to pull the empire into chaos.
Keal's footsteps faded into the distance, but the storm brewing within him raged louder than ever. And in the silent halls above, the web of betrayal grew tighter with every passing moment.