The task Duke Raventhal had set before me was simple on the surface: locate the missing shipment of supplies destined for the eastern provinces and uncover the culprit behind its disappearance. But I knew better. Nothing in the court of Krasyl was ever straightforward, especially not when it involved those vying for power.
The morning after the masquerade, I summoned Kieran to my chambers. He arrived promptly, his dark attire blending seamlessly with the shadows of the room. His sharp eyes met mine as he closed the door behind him.
"You look troubled," he said, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "I take it the masquerade wasn't all frivolity and wine?"
I leaned against my desk, arms crossed. "Duke Raventhal has given me a test—a missing shipment meant for the eastern provinces. If I recover it and identify who's behind its disappearance, I'll gain his favor."
Kieran raised an eyebrow, his expression turning serious. "A test, or a trap? Raventhal is a shrewd man. He won't waste his time with petty matters."
"Exactly," I said. "That's why I need you. I need information, Kieran. Who controls the routes to the eastern provinces? Who stands to gain from disrupting those supplies?"
He nodded, already slipping into his calculating demeanor. "The eastern routes pass through two major territories—Count Heradon's and Viscount Erynthe's. Both are influential, but their allegiances differ. Heradon is loyal to the Emperor, while Erynthe has been courting favor with your brothers."
A spark of recognition flared in my mind. Viscount Erynthe. He had always been a subtle player in the court's power struggles, his influence quiet but pervasive.
"Erynthe," I murmured. "If he's involved, it could explain the missing shipment. But I need proof."
Kieran's smirk returned. "Then it's a good thing I've already begun working on it. I had my people investigate rumors of unrest near the eastern borders last week. There's been talk of bandits attacking supply lines—but these aren't ordinary bandits. They're too well-armed, too organized."
"Mercenaries," I said, the pieces falling into place. "Hired by someone with enough wealth and motive to disrupt the Emperor's supply chains. Someone like Erynthe."
Kieran nodded. "It's a strong possibility. If you want to confirm it, you'll need to act quickly. The longer the shipment remains missing, the more likely the trail goes cold."
I straightened, resolve hardening within me. "Then we move now. Where were the attacks reported?"
"A few days' ride southeast, near the village of Greystone," he replied. "If you want answers, that's where you'll find them."
I didn't waste any time. By midday, I had assembled a small but capable group, including Kieran and a handful of loyal guards. As we rode out of the capital, I couldn't help but feel a sense of urgency driving me forward. This wasn't just about earning Raventhal's trust—it was a chance to prove myself, to show that I was more than just another contender for the throne.
The journey to Greystone was uneventful, though the air grew colder and the roads rougher as we approached the outskirts of the village. When we arrived, the mood was grim. The villagers eyed us warily, their faces marked by both fear and suspicion.
Kieran dismounted beside me, his gaze scanning the surroundings. "Bandits leave scars, but this village looks more than scarred. It looks… silenced."
I nodded, stepping forward to address the nearest group of villagers. "I am Prince Aurelian of Krasyl. I've come to investigate the recent attacks on the supply routes. Tell me what you know, and I will ensure your safety."
The villagers exchanged hesitant glances before an older man stepped forward, his weathered face etched with both age and hardship. "Your Highness," he said, bowing deeply. "We've seen the bandits, but they're no ordinary thieves. They come in the night, armed like soldiers, and they take what they want without mercy."
"Have you seen their leader?" I asked.
The man hesitated, then nodded. "A man in dark armor. His face is always hidden, but his voice… it's cold, calculated. He speaks as though he's more than just a common brigand."
Kieran's eyes narrowed. "Mercenaries. No doubt about it."
"Where do they hide?" I pressed.
"Beyond the hills," the man said, pointing to the east. "There's an old fortress there, abandoned for years. It's the only place they could be coming from."
I turned to my men, my decision made. "We ride to the fortress. If they're there, we'll find the supplies—and the truth."
The fortress loomed in the distance as we approached, its crumbling walls casting long shadows under the setting sun. Kieran and I dismounted, leaving our horses with the guards as we crept closer.
The air was thick with tension, the silence broken only by the occasional rustle of wind through the trees. As we neared the entrance, I signaled for my men to spread out, surrounding the fortress to cut off any escape routes.
Inside, the flicker of torches illuminated the cavernous halls. The supplies were easy to spot—crates bearing the imperial seal stacked haphazardly along the walls. But what caught my attention was the group of armed men gathered near the center of the room, their leader standing tall and imposing in his dark armor.
I stepped forward, my voice echoing through the chamber. "You have something that doesn't belong to you."
The leader turned, his helmet concealing his face, but I could feel his gaze on me. "And who are you to demand it back?"
"I am Aurelian, third prince of Krasyl," I said, drawing my sword. "And I've come to take what's mine."
For a moment, there was silence. Then the leader laughed—a cold, mocking sound. "A prince, is it? Brave of you to come here, but bravery won't save you."
He signaled to his men, and the room erupted into chaos.
The clash of steel rang out as my guards charged into the fray. Kieran moved like a shadow beside me, his blade striking with precision. I fought with a determination born of necessity, each strike of my sword a reminder of what was at stake.
The leader was skilled, his movements calculated and efficient. But as our blades met, I saw something in his stance—a familiarity, a technique I recognized.
"Who sent you?" I demanded, pressing my advantage.
He didn't answer, but his hesitation was enough. With a final strike, I disarmed him, his sword clattering to the ground.
Before I could unmask him, Kieran appeared at my side. "Aurelian. We need to move. Reinforcements are coming."
Reluctantly, I stepped back, signaling my men to secure the supplies. As we retreated from the fortress, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning.
Whoever had orchestrated this wanted more than to disrupt the empire's supply lines—they wanted to send a message.
And I intended to deliver one of my own.