Arlon stepped into the hallway, the book from the library secured under his arm. His thoughts lingered on Irish and Irien—two contrasting presences. Irish, with her playful, unfiltered words, and Irien, graceful and composed, yet equally uncertain around him.
Yet beneath those differences, there was something shared—an uncertainty when addressing him, a cautious hopefulness that they hadn't yet figured out how to express.
As he moved toward his chambers, Dimitri's words echoed in his thoughts: "Perhaps the twins might help you clear your thoughts." He frowned slightly. It was strange, the idea of anyone—let alone his younger sisters—helping him with anything beyond surface-level formalities. He wasn't someone they knew well. They barely addressed him as a brother.
Lost in thought, Arlon's steps slowed as he passed the library. Through the door, left ajar, he caught faint voices inside. Curiosity stirred, and after a moment's hesitation, he pushed the door open.
Creak—
Inside, the vast shelves of the library stretched toward the high ceiling, rows upon rows of leather-bound books glowing faintly under the soft light. In front of one of the taller shelves, the twins stood together, their focus fixed on a book just out of reach. Irien stretched onto her toes, her hand brushing the edge of the spine, while Irish stood beside her, hands on her hips.
"This is ridiculous," Irish muttered, her voice carrying a mixture of frustration and determination. "Why do they even put these books so high? It's like they don't expect anyone under six feet tall to read anything interesting."
Irien, ever composed, let out a soft sigh, her fingers brushing uselessly against the edge of the book. "We need a ladder," she said, her tone calm despite her evident struggle.
Arlon watched for a moment, the faintest flicker of amusement crossing his mind. It was such a mundane scene—two young girls stubbornly battling a bookshelf—and yet it felt oddly out of place in the cold, formal halls of the castle. Without announcing himself, he stepped forward.
"Need some help?" Arlon's calm voice broke the silence, and both girls jolted as though caught doing something forbidden.
They turned sharply, their wide eyes landing on him. Irien's composure wavered as her face flushed lightly, while Irish straightened, blinking in surprise. For a moment, neither of them spoke.
"Lord Arlon" Irish recovered first, though her tone was unusually bright and nervous. "We were just, uh, trying to grab this book. But, um—" She hesitated, glancing toward the shelf. "It's too high."
Irien looked away, her fingers fidgeting lightly with the hem of her sleeve. "We didn't want to bother anyone," she added softly. "But... yes, we could use some help."
Arlon's gaze landed on the book, perched frustratingly out of reach for the twins. He stepped forward without ceremony, reaching up and plucking it from the shelf with ease. Silently, he extended it to them.
"Here," he said simply, his voice steady.
Irien took the book with a small, graceful bow of her head. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. She clutched the book to her chest, avoiding his gaze.
"It's nothing," Arlon replied, his expression unreadable.
Irish, ever bolder, recovered from her initial fluster and quickly shifted her attention to the book under Arlon's arm. "What about you? What are you reading?" she asked, her tone light but curious.
Arlon glanced down at the faded leather-bound volume. "A text on ancient languages," he said, his tone even.
Irish tilted her head, her interest obvious. "You're into old languages?"
"Yes," he replied, his response short and deliberate. "Understanding the past is important. There's value in knowing what came before."
Irien, still clutching the book he had retrieved for them, finally lifted her gaze to meet his.
"Do you think understanding the past could change the future?" Irien's quiet question lingered, carrying far more weight than her small voice should have.
The question caught him off guard. He studied her for a moment before responding. "Sometimes. History doesn't repeat itself exactly, but it shows patterns—choices and consequences. If you know how to interpret it, you might avoid repeating certain mistakes."
Irien nodded, her expression softening with quiet understanding. "That makes sense," she said.
Irish, meanwhile, was already brimming with another question. "Do you think you could recommend some books like that? The ones about history and old languages?"
"..."
Arlon hesitated, surprised by the request. It wasn't often anyone asked for his input, let alone the twins. Their interest seemed genuine, though, and he found himself considering the possibility. "Some of the books are difficult," he warned. "But if you're serious, I can find something."
Irish brightened instantly. "We don't mind the difficulty!" she declared, her enthusiasm infectious. "We like a challenge—right, Irien?"
Irien smiled softly, nodding in agreement. "Yes. We'd like to learn."
Arlon studied them both, their earnestness clear in their expressions. There was something unguarded about it, something unfamiliar to him. For a moment, he debated how far to let this go. Then, almost without realizing it, he nodded.
"If you're serious, we'll start tomorrow," Arlon said, his tone steady but cool. "It won't be easy. If you aren't willing to put in the effort, don't waste my time."
The twins exchanged a surprised glance before Irish spoke, her voice quick and slightly flustered. "We won't waste your time! We promise!"
Irien, always more measured, bowed her head slightly. "Thank you, Arlon—uh, Lord Arlon,We... really appreciate this."
Arlon nodded once, his expression unreadable. He adjusted the book under his arm and stepped back, glancing toward the door. "You should head back to your rooms now. It's getting late."
Irish hesitated, then blurted out, "You'll really study with us, right?"
Her question, laced with nervousness and hope, lingered in the air. Arlon's gaze settled on her for a moment before he gave a single, decisive nod. "I will."
Satisfied, Irish grinned, her previous nervousness giving way to excitement. "Great! We'll be ready!" she said, nudging Irien, who gave a quieter but equally warm smile.
"Good," Arlon replied. "Now, go."
The twins murmured their goodbyes, bowing slightly before hurrying toward the door. Arlon watched them leave, their steps lighter than when he'd entered the room. Once they were gone, the library felt quieter, emptier—but not in the usual, isolating way.
Arlon turned back to the shelves, running his fingers along the spines of the books absently. He had agreed to help them, almost without thinking, but now he realized it wasn't just about teaching them. There was a fragile connection forming between them, one that felt untested but strangely... necessary.
One step at a time, he thought, gripping the book in his hand a little tighter. For now, he would let things unfold. Whatever came of this bond with his sisters, he would handle it in his own way.
Step— Step—
With that, he left the library, his steps measured and deliberate, disappearing into the quiet hallways of the castle.
———
The grand dining hall shimmered with the golden glow of candlelight, the towering walls casting faint shadows across the vast room. The long dining table, adorned with fine china and polished silver, stretched like a bridge between formality and silence.
At the head of the table, Duchess Emilia Throndsen sat with the poise of a queen, her expression calm but thoughtful as her gaze swept over the family gathered before her.
Across from her, Arlon sat with his usual composure, his face a mask of neutrality as he ate sparingly. His sharp purple eyes seemed distant, but there was no mistaking the faint tension that lingered in the air.
To Arlon's left, Lawrence sat rigid as ever, eating without much thought, his expression unreadable. Beside him, Alice sat straighter than usual, her fork motionless against her plate as she quietly observed Arlon and the Duchess. Something about their silence felt too heavy to ignore, and Alice's sharp eyes flicked back and forth, fully attuned to the unspoken shift in the room.
At the far end, Anthony seemed to take little notice of anything, his focus on his food as he picked at it with disinterest. Eric, sitting next to him, swung his legs beneath the chair in a quiet rhythm, chewing with exaggerated focus on his overly large slice of bread.
On the other side of the table, the twins sat side by side, their pale blonde heads bowed politely as they focused on their meals. Irien and Irish barely spoke, their movements quiet and precise, clearly determined not to draw attention.
Every now and then, Irish would steal a glance toward Arlon, her curious blue eyes flickering with something unspoken before quickly darting back to her plate. Irien, calmer and more reserved, listened intently to the conversation, though she gave no indication of her thoughts.
The quiet scrape of cutlery against porcelain stretched on until the Duchess finally spoke, her voice soft but heavy. "Tomorrow is an important day, Arlon."
The words were spoken softly, but their weight settled heavily across the table. The clinking of silverware stilled momentarily, though only Alice seemed to fully grasp the tension in the Duchess's tone.
Arlon's movements slowed, his hand pausing briefly as it reached for his glass. He looked up, meeting Emilia's calm yet probing gaze with his own steady one.
"It will be your first time addressing the noble assembly. You must understand—these men are not easily swayed, and they will scrutinize your every word. You'll need all the support you can get."
At the far end, Eric blinked as though he'd missed something important. He glanced at Anthony, whispering, though his voice carried.
"What's she talking about?"
Anthony sighed and muttered, "Just eat your bread."
Alice, ignoring them, leaned subtly forward, her gaze sharpening as she watched the exchange unfold. She noticed the way Arlon's expression remained impassive, the subtle way his fingers traced the edge of his glass—a habit she'd seen him do when deep in thought.
Arlon finally responded, his voice cool and measured."Thank you for your concern, Duchess."
The subtle emphasis on Duchess added a thin layer of formality that was not lost on Alice—or on the twins, who glanced briefly at each other before returning to their meals.
"However, I intend to handle the meeting on my own. It is my responsibility as the next heir, and I would prefer not to trouble you further."
The soft candor in his tone drew a flicker of surprise across Emilia's face. She had expected reluctance, or even arrogance—but not this quiet, confident resolve. The room seemed to still around the two of them, though only Alice truly felt the change.
Irish's fork paused mid-air as she stared quietly at Arlon, clearly trying not to look too obvious. Irien, while more composed, lowered her gaze thoughtfully to her plate. Neither girl spoke, though their quiet observation betrayed their interest.
The Duchess set her wine glass down, her fingers lingering around the stem as she composed herself.
"You wish to face the nobles alone?" Emilia's voice carried a trace of hesitation. Arlon inclined his head, his expression as steady as his words. "You've already done enough for this family. Trust me to handle this."
Irish turned to Irien and nudged her under the table, her expression a mix of surprise and admiration, though she quickly schooled her features when Irien shot her a quiet look.
Alice, meanwhile, frowned faintly. Arlon's words were direct, but there was something underneath them—something unsaid. She couldn't quite place what it was, but it left her unsettled.
The Duchess hesitated, her sky-blue eyes searching Arlon's face. Her lips parted, as though she wanted to argue, but she stopped herself. Pride flickered there, fleeting and quiet, though she masked it well.
"Very well, Arlon." Her voice carried an edge of finality, though it softened again as she continued. "But remember this—I am here if you need me. Always."
Arlon held her gaze for a beat longer before nodding. "I understand."
Satisfied, Emilia leaned back slightly in her chair, though her composed expression belied the quiet thoughts undoubtedly running through her mind.
The room gradually eased back into quiet conversation and the clinking of silverware. Lawrence resumed eating without comment, his thoughts unreadable, while Anthony appeared far more interested in finishing his meal than the family dynamics at play.
Eric had given up trying to follow the conversation entirely, his attention back on the bread he was dramatically tearing into smaller pieces.
The twins remained polite and still, though their focus lingered on Arlon. Irish sneaked quick glances, her eyes bright with admiration she struggled to hide. Irien, more composed, watched him carefully, her curiosity silent but evident.
Alice, on the other hand, watched Arlon carefully, suspicion and intrigue battling within her mind. Something had shifted tonight, though she wasn't yet sure whether it was for better or worse.
Arlon, for his part, remained composed. The words had been spoken, the expectations set, but as the dinner continued, his mind wandered to what awaited him tomorrow. He could feel the weight of it already, pressing against the carefully crafted walls he had built around himself.
This meeting will be a test, he thought, his gaze steady as he lifted his glass to his lips.
At the far end of the table, Eric piped up cheerfully, his voice cutting through the quiet hum.
"This bread is good!"
Anthony sighed again, but a faint smirk betrayed his amusement. Irish stifled a giggle, while Irien smiled softly at Eric's obliviousness.
Arlon ignored it, his focus elsewhere, though Alice caught the faintest twitch of his lips, like he might have smiled if the walls weren't so high.
Arlon's chamber was dimly lit by the faint glow of the moon spilling through the arched window. The room was otherwise quiet, save for the soft rustle of parchment as Arlon scanned the notes laid out before him. Three names stood out on the documents: the nobles he needed to learn more about.
Dimitri stood nearby, his sharp green eyes narrowing as he watched Arlon gather the necessary tools for the night ahead. His expression was composed, but the tension in his posture betrayed his unease. "You intend to go out tonight to gather this information yourself?"
Arlon, calm as ever, set aside the last parchment and turned to face Dimitri. His voice was steady and direct, brooking no argument. "Yes. There's no need to send anyone else. I'll be quick, discreet, and unseen."
Dimitri frowned, his lips pressing into a thin line. "Forgive me, my lord, but this is far too dangerous. If something were to happen to you—"
"I'm not going alone."
Dimitri's brow furrowed, his suspicion deepening.
"Ace will be with me."
As if on cue, the purple shimmer of light appeared on the edge of the canopy bed, and Ace materialized lazily, stretching his feline form with deliberate dramatics. His crimson eyes gleamed mischievously in the dim light.
"Oh, don't worry, Dimitri. I'll make sure he doesn't fall into any ditches or get eaten by shadows."
Dimitri shot Ace a brief, unamused look before turning his focus back to Arlon."Even so, my lord, this is far too dangerous. I understand your intent, but this task is not suited to you"
Arlon crossed his arms, his gaze unyielding.
"If you truly wish to help me, Dimitri, you can serve as my lookout while I'm gone. I'll need you to make sure no one in the castle becomes aware of my absence."
Dimitri's lips parted as though to protest, but the quiet authority in Arlon's tone silenced him. He let out a slow breath, conceding defeat. "…Very well. But you will return unnoticed. And quickly."
Arlon nodded in silent agreement.
Seeing there was no convincing him otherwise, Dimitri moved toward his desk, gathering more papers. His voice shifted back to the calm efficiency he was known for.
"The nobles in question—Lord Henry Everson
,Lord Earl Dwyer, and Lord Alfred Fontaine —are close associates and old allies. As fortune would have it, they are meeting tonight at a private gathering. I had intended to send trusted eyes to observe them, but it seems you'll be taking that task upon yourself."
There was a faint edge to Dimitri's words, but Arlon ignored it, focusing instead on the new information. "A gathering?"
"Yes. At Lord Fontaine's estate. The location is secluded and heavily guarded, but a small entrance exists along the estate's southern garden. I suspect that this gathering is more than just a social call—something about it feels deliberate."
He paused, a flicker of something unspoken crossing his gaze. "Be wary, my lord. These men are not to be taken lightly. Their allegiance is unclear, and their dealings have recently grown suspicious."
Arlon tilted his head slightly, catching the faint hesitation in Dimitri's voice. "You suspect them of something else?"
Dimitri's expression darkened, though he remained composed. "I cannot say for certain yet. But their ties to outside forces—perhaps the Celestial Clan—are worth investigating."
That could be possible,in the novel there's no clear detail but… These nobles had once pressured a young Arlon to shoulder duties beyond his years—an experience he hadn't forgotten, and one that made their current actions all the more suspicious.
But the nobles' demands only grew more suffocating, and Arlon, once a boy struggling to meet their expectations, eventually snapped.
Arlon nodded once, already forming his plan.
"At the very least, take precautions."
From his pocket, Dimitri pulled out a small silver necklace with a single dark gemstone. The faint light from the room made it gleam faintly, though there was something ominous about its glow.
"This necklace will alter how others see you. To them, you'll look like a merchant's apprentice. But be cautious—it won't fool those who look too closely."
Arlon accepted the necklace from Dimitri, clasping it around his neck. The faint hum of magic resonated softly, its cool weight settling against his skin.
Ace's cat form stretched lazily on the bed, his crimson eyes glinting with mischief. "Look at you—stepping straight out of a thief's ballad. Need me to start singing your praises as the Shadow Duke?"
Arlon ignored him and donned the black robe. The fabric was unremarkable, designed to blend rather than stand out. He adjusted the hood, letting it shadow his features.
Dimitri's sharp gaze swept over him one last time, his posture rigid. "Remember, my lord—speed and discretion. Do not underestimate these men. And should anything go awry…"
Arlon met Dimitri's eyes, his voice steady and resolute. "It won't."
Creak—
The balcony doors opened with a soft creak, letting the crisp night air sweep into the room. Below, the faint hum of the city whispered like a distant memory.
He paused, his sharp purple gaze taking in the sprawling landscape of Falcon, where countless lanterns flickered like scattered stars.
Ace padded up beside him, the soft pads of his feet making no sound against the stone. "Ready for our little adventure?"
"Just keep quiet," Arlon replied, his tone flat but with the faintest edge of anticipation.
Step—
Without another word, Arlon leapt onto the balcony railing. The wind tugged at his cloak as he disappeared into the night, his form a fleeting shadow against the moonlit sky. Ace hopped onto his shoulder.
Whoosh—
The city awaited them, cloaked in darkness and secrets yet to be uncovered.