"So you think it was nothing to worry about?"
Raamiz was on his bed, tossing a ball into the air and catching it like he didn't have a care in the world. He looked half-distracted, but I knew better. With Raamiz, there was always something ticking away in the back of his mind, even when he acted like he wasn't paying attention.
He caught the ball as I finished speaking, holding it in his hand for a moment like the act of catching it helped him think.
"I've thought about it," he said, his amber eyes flicking to mine. "And honestly? From what you've described, it doesn't make much sense that it was someone stalking you. Or, at least, not a person stalking you."
I raised an eyebrow. "Not a person?"
Raamiz shrugged, tossing the ball up again. "It could've been a Tepac."
A Tepac. Great. Just what I wanted to hear.
"Not that that's exactly comforting," he added with a small chuckle as the ball landed back in his hand.
Something that I soon discovered in this new life was that monsters weren't exactly rare in Espersia. Technically, the term covered anything non-human, but that didn't mean it was always negative. Some "monsters" lived alongside humans just fine—running shops, working jobs, even holding positions in government. A few nations were even majority non-human, though those were more the exception than the rule.
But Tepacs? They were the exception to the exception. The dangerous kind. The kind you didn't want to run into, whether you were in the middle of the woods or the middle of a city. Most urban areas were safe enough—government organizations (monster hunters) made sure of that—but the farther out you went, the easier it was to cross paths with something that wouldn't think twice about ripping you apart.
I shook the thought off, though it lingered in the back of my mind. "Great," I muttered. "Just what I needed to hear."
Raamiz chuckled again. "Relax. I said it could've been a Tepac. That's not the same as saying it was. It could have been a wolf for all we know"
A sigh silently escapes my lips. It is what it is I suppose - no point in worrying about it now.
"So, other than that," Raamiz said, "the meeting went smoothly?"
"Yeah, I mean…" I shifted in my chair. "It went exactly how you said it would. He was late, agreed to the job and he…he was a bit of a jackass."
Raamiz burst out laughing. "Of course he was. That's his brand." He grinned, leaning forward slightly. "Though do keep in mind, that jackass is about to be saving both our asses very soon."
"Yeah, yeah, I get it," I said, waving him off. "Still doesn't make him any less insufferable."
Raamiz smirked and leaned back against the wall. "Fair."
I hesitated for a moment before blurting out, "I'm still confused, though—why won't you tell me who he is? Or how you even know him?"
Raamiz caught the ball one last time, this time holding onto it as he sat up, his expression softening but not quite losing its edge. "I promised him I wouldn't betray his identity. It's as simple as that. If word got out I couldn't keep my mouth shut, do you really think I'd be able to get anything done in... certain circles?"
I let out a long sigh, slouching back in my chair. "Man, I get it. But I've got so many questions."
"One day," Raamiz said, his tone quiet but firm, "I'll probably answer them. Right now? You don't need to worry about it."
"By the way, speaking of insufferable," Raamiz said, glancing over at me. "You got the news?"
I nodded. "Family dinner tonight. Father's request, of course."
"Gods," he muttered. "They're always so dull."
I shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe tonight will be different. The capital trip's just around the corner, right? They might actually talk about something worth hearing for once."
Raamiz snorted. "Unlikely. More like an endless lecture on the usual: your mother, my mother and of course Father reminding us to act like the perfect family. At least at most dinners, I can argue with Idris or get under his skin a little. Tonight? I'll probably get shut down before I even get the chance."
I leaned back in my chair, tracing idle patterns on the table with my finger. "You know, it's funny how much joy you get out of annoying your twin. I think it's the only time I ever see you actually enjoy having him around."
Raamiz's expression shifted, the faint humor in his eyes hardening into something sharper. "Despite the fact that I might have the most inherent connection with him," he said, his tone growing more serious, "I couldn't be more different from him in reality. He's always been a mama's boy, and he's worse off for it."
His voice trailed off, his jaw tightening for a moment before he exhaled, shaking his head. "Anyway," he said, his tone softening slightly, "I much prefer spending my time with you."
I blinked, thrown off by the sudden weight of his words. My face grew warm as I tried to form a response. "Thanks," I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck awkwardly. "You know, you're my only friend here at the castle."
Raamiz gave me a look — but said nothing.
"Still," I added quickly, hoping to steer the conversation back into lighter territory, "I think you and Idris are more alike than you realize."
His head snapped toward me, his glare sharp. "What do you mean by that? Are you trying to piss me off?"
"No, no, not at all!" I said, holding up my hands defensively. "I don't mean it in a bad way. It's just… you're both really smart. You're both always watching people, figuring them out before they even know what's happening. And you've both got that same sharp wit that could cut someone in half if you wanted to."
Raamiz's scowl deepened, but he didn't interrupt, so I pressed on. "The difference is, you're confident in who you are. Idris, though... I don't know. I think he hides behind all that bravado because he's not."
Raamiz stared at me for a moment, his expression unreadable. "You've got some interesting theories," he said finally.
I shrugged, "I call it like I see it."
"Hmm." He leaned back against the headboard, his fingers idly tapping the edge of the mattress. "Since you're in the mood for observations, here's one for you: you've been... bolder than usual lately."
I blinked, caught off guard. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Raamiz tilted his head slightly, the way he does when he's trying to decide how much he wants to say. "Hmm how to put it. You know, you've always been the type to... keep to yourself. Avoid the mess, stay out of the way. But these last few months? It's like you've started leaning into the mess instead. It's not a bad thing," he added quickly, his tone lighter, "but it's... different. Takes some getting used to."
Shit. Has it really been that obvious?
Now that I think about it... somewhere along the line, both identities—James and the old Zeliot—stopped spilling into everything I did. At first, it was constant, like their memories were fighting each other in my head. But now? It's like I just stopped noticing.
I've been living like I belong here. Like this has always been my life.
When did that happen? When did I stop questioning it?
I've definitely gotten too comfortable.
I forced a laugh, brushing it off. "Good to know, though I think this has more to do with me having to change more than anything.."
"If you say so." Raamiz replies, still obviously unconvinced.
Raamiz stood, stretching like he hadn't just dropped that little nugget into my lap. "Anyway, we've got that delightful family dinner to look forward to. If you're done psychoanalyzing me, maybe you should think about how you're going to survive that dronefest."
I groaned, pushing myself to my feet. "Oh, come on. You're the one who can't help but antagonize Idris. If anyone needs a strategy, it's you."
Raamiz smirked faintly as he walked to the door, opening it for me. "Don't worry. I'll be on my best behavior... for hopefully the first five minutes. I got to get ready so I will see you later Zeliot."
I nod, get up, and begin my trek back to my corridor.
Back in my room, I worked at the buttons on my tunic, decidinly thinking of my next course of action.
Family dinners. I wasn't exactly looking forward to it. The last few had been so boring I'd almost started wishing for Idris to throw food just to liven things up.
Not that boring was bad. Most of the time, boring was practically a blessing. The problem was the boredom felt... pointless. Nothing ever happened at these dinners. No genuine conversations, no unguarded moments. It was like Raamiz said: it was all for appearances, even though there wasn't an audience.
You'd think with no one around to watch, they'd drop the act for five seconds and actually talk to each other. Instead, it's like everyone's on autopilot.
I don't even know how to feel about half the people at the table. My mother's usually a source of comfort, but even she gets tense during these dinners. Gaius doesn't bother hiding how little she cares for me, and Alba's head is somewhere else entirely. Idris? He's Idris. That's about all I can say without wanting a drink.
And the Duke... or Father... feels like he's in another world. Even when he's right there, it's like he's somewhere else entirely. Distant. Closed off. Trying to imagine having a real relationship with him feels pointless.
I sighed, shaking my head and adjusting my collar.
Still, compared to that first dinner—the one where I felt like a spotlight was trained on me the entire time—this could be tolerable. Hopefully.
Well, tolerable if Gaius didn't decide to mention where she ran into me this morning. That would be... less than ideal. I didn't think she'd bring it up—subtlety seemed to be her preferred weapon of choice—but I couldn't shake the worry. If she wanted to stir the pot, that little encounter was all the ammunition she needed.
I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to steady the nagging thoughts. No use stressing over it now. All I could do was keep my head down and hope tonight didn't turn into something worse than boring.
What seemed to be all too common these days—a knock interrupted my thoughts.
"Dinner's soon," came Luca's voice from the other side of the door, as steady and no-nonsense as ever. "You should head down."
I sighed, glancing at the mirror one last time. Everything looked fine—or fine enough for what this was. "I'm coming," I called back, my tone clipped.
Luca didn't leave immediately. I could hear him shifting, probably making sure I wasn't about to pull a disappearing act. That was Luca for you: patient, persistent, and a bit of a pain when he wanted to be.
"Just give me a minute," I added, more sharply this time.
Finally, his heavy footsteps receded.
The quiet didn't last long, though. Beyond my door, the sounds of the castle filled the space—servants moving quickly through the halls, their footsteps purposeful as they finished the dinner preparations. The distant clatter of silverware and muted voices reached me, blending into the familiar pre-dinner chaos.
I straightened my cuffs, ran a hand through my hair, and glanced at the door. "Alright," I muttered to myself, "let's get this over with."
Pushing it open, I stepped into the hallway, where the muted hum of activity felt closer. The rustle of fabric and hurried whispers floated from a nearby corner, a servant muttering something about the table placements. Dinner apparently was waiting.
No sense in stalling.
When I entered the dining hall, it was already alive with quiet conversation and the clink of silverware against fine china as the servants finalized the table. The room was as grand as always, lit by the glow of chandeliers that hung high above, their crystals catching the light and throwing faint patterns across the walls
Everyone was present - well, everyone except Raamiz and the Duke. No surprises there. Raamiz was almost never on time, and the Duke's entrance was always a calculated event.
I moved toward my chair, my gaze skimming the table. Mother—Amelia—sat beside Alba, speaking to him in her usual calm, measured tone. Alba nodded along, though his brow furrowed slightly, and his fingers tapped faintly against the table. Whatever she was saying, it had him distracted. A parchment lay in front of her, a quill resting nearby, the ink still glistening on its tip.
Gaius, seated a few chairs away, glanced up briefly as I entered.
I looked away before her attention could linger.
"Evening," I said, sliding into my chair.
Mother's smile was warm, her voice effortlessly pleasant. "Good evening, Zeliot."
Idris, seated across from me, leaned back in his chair, one arm resting on the table. "Evening," he said, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Though I can't imagine what could possibly make you so prompt. It's not like you're about to share anything riveting."
I ignored him—it was easier that way—and turned my attention to Mother and Alba. "What are you two talking about? It seems... interesting."
Mother's smile widened slightly, her tone gaining a teasing edge. "Well, Zeliot, it seems your older brother has discovered a new hobby! And," she added with a soft laugh, "he's proving to be quite skilled at it."
I glanced at Alba, waiting for him to elaborate, but he didn't even glance my way. His gaze remained on the parchment in front of Mother, his fingers tapping lightly against the table. Whatever he was thinking about, it had him hooked.
"Okay," I said, turning back to Mother. "And the hobby is...?"
Amelia tapped the parchment lightly with her finger, her smile taking on that knowing, teasing quality she was so good at. "Care to guess?"
Of course, Mother couldn't just tell me. I sighed and leaned forward, pulling the parchment closer.
The symbols scrawled across it were a mess of letters and numbers:
White: Ke3, b2, Rh1, h2, g4, f6, d5, Qg7
Black: Qa2, a7, b6, d7, Kxd4, g6, h5, Rh8
At first glance, it looked like the kind of cipher you'd find in a dusty library book. But something about it nagged at the back of my mind. The arrangement, the rhythm of the letters—it wasn't random.
Then it hit me.
"Wait... is this chess?" I asked, glancing up at Mother.
Her smile widened, the warmth in her expression unmistakable. "Good job, Zeliot! That's impressive you figured it out so quickly."
Before I could reply, Idris let out an audible snort, reclining back in his chair. He opened his mouth to say something undoubtedly cutting, but Gaius stopped him cold with a single sharp glance. She didn't need words—her eyes said it all: Don't waste your breath.
"Well," I said, trying to shake off the tension, "I don't know about impressive. I've just seen the symbols somewhere before. So... Alba's into chess now? And he's teaching you?"
Suddenly, before anyone could answer, Alba reached over and snatched the parchment from my hands with a surprising urgency. His movements were quick, almost frantic, as he grabbed the quill beside it.
"Duchess, I think I've got it!" he said, his voice brimming with focus.
He bent over the paper, his hand moving so fast it looked like he was trying to outrun his own thoughts. His expression was laser-focused, his lips pressed tightly together. It was the kind of intensity I'd expect from someone defusing a bomb, not... solving a chess puzzle.
When he finally stopped writing, Alba slid the parchment toward Amelia, his eyes practically glowing with anticipation. "Here," he said, his voice tinged with both triumph and a flicker of nervousness.
Amelia took the paper, holding it carefully as she scanned the marks. Her expression didn't change, and Alba leaned forward slightly, his knuckles resting on the table as though bracing himself for impact.
After a long pause, she looked up. "Alba... good job. You got it!"
Alba shot out of his chair so quickly it nearly toppled over. "YES! Yes, yes, yes, yes! I FUCKING GOT IT!" he yelled, his voice filled with so much excitement that it made everyone at the table pause.
I blinked, caught completely off guard. Alba—stoic, unfettered, the almost comically ideal image of royalty, Alba—was grinning ear to ear like a kid who'd just won his first trophy. Over a chess puzzle. Honestly, it was kind of endearing.
Unfortunately, Alba's moment of glory was quickly shut down.
"Alba, sit down," Gaius snapped, her tone sharp enough to cut glass. "You're embarrassing yourself."
Alba froze, his cheeks flooding with color as he lowered himself back into his chair. "Of course, Mother," he muttered. "I'm sorry. I was just stumped, and—"
Amelia cut off Alba's stammering with a light gesture, her tone calm and smooth. "The fault is mine, Gaius," she said, her words carefully chosen. "The puzzle I crafted was a bit tricky, so it's only natural Alba would feel excited solving it."
Gaius didn't miss a beat, her gaze sharp as ever. "Nonsense, Amelia. You don't have anything to apologize for. The heir should know better than to lose his composure."
Way to slide in the 'heir' comment there, Gaius, I thought, I'm sure Amelia just loves that.
I turned toward her, watching closely. Her smile remained in place, but I could see the faintest tension at the corners of her mouth. Subtle, but there. If you didn't know her as well as I did, you'd think nothing had changed.
Over time, it had become more obvious to me that she wasn't thrilled with the idea of Alba being the presumed heir. I mean, it was no secret she wanted her own son—me—to take that role. She certainly never asked how I felt about it, though.
Alba's voice brought me back to the moment. "Thank you for the defense, Duchess," he said, his tone smooth and almost too composed. "But rest assured, it is not necessary. Mother is right, of course."
I blinked. Alba had already found his footing again, like nothing had happened.
He turned back to Amelia, his expression softening as his voice took on a more earnest note. "And thank you, Duchess, for crafting such an inquisitive exchange. I know I'm still a novice compared to your extraordinary skill, but it's truly a pleasure to learn from you."
Wait a second. Is my mother some kind of chess genius?
Her smile shifted, a touch of warmth replacing the earlier momentary tension. "Oh, Alba, you flatter me," she said lightly. "But I'm sure you'll catch up to my skill very soon."
Alba nodded graciously, his composure firmly back in place. Watching him regain control so quickly was almost fascinating—like watching a flame snuff itself out, only to reignite moments later.
The dining hall doors swung open with a dramatic force, the sound echoing off the walls. I didn't even need to look up to know who it was. Raamiz strolled in, his usual air of irreverence clinging to him like a second cloak.
"I believe I heard Alba yelling from two territories to the west," he announced, his voice carrying a teasing lilt. "Alba, you must calm down. I think Kurupez might have thought it was a declaration of war."
Alba stiffened slightly, his earlier triumph dampened by Raamiz's arrival. "Very funny," he muttered, his tone clipped as he glanced down at the parchment in front of Amelia.
Raamiz sauntered to his seat, dropping into it with a dramatic sigh. "I try. But really, Alba, what's all the commotion? You solve some ancient riddle and unlock a secret vault of gold?"
Amelia, ever composed, responded with her usual grace. "Not quite, Raamiz. Your brother has simply been sharpening his chess skills. And quite impressively, I might add."
"Chess?" Raamiz repeated, leaning back in his chair with a grin. "Well, I suppose it's good to know you can get this excited about something other than staring at yourself in the mirror, Alba."
Alba's cheeks flushed faintly, though he quickly masked it. "It was just a momentary lapse. Hardly worth your commentary, Raamiz."
"Everything you do is worth my commentary," Raamiz shot back, as if delivering a finishing blow.
Alba shook his head but said nothing, clearly unwilling to engage further.
"Hey, cool it with the verbal attacks," I said, throwing Raamiz a warning glance. This was not the time for him to be poking at Alba like a bored child with a stick.
Raamiz turned his sharp amber eyes toward me, catching my meaning—or at least, I hoped he did. For a second, I thought he'd double down, but then he exhaled and leaned back in his chair, the sharpness in his amber eyes dimming just slightly.
"Fine," he said flatly, turning to Alba. His voice was measured now, careful. "I apologize for the harsh words, Alba. I'm sure solving your chess puzzle was a worthy accomplishment."
Alba glanced up briefly, his face betraying nothing but the faintest flicker of irritation. He sighed, then said, "Whatever. I accept your apology, Raamiz."
The knock at the dining hall doors broke through the quiet murmur of conversation. A servant stepped in, his face flushed, and his breath came in short gasps as though he'd just sprinted halfway across the castle.
Gaius raised an eyebrow, her tone clipped. "What is it?"
The servant straightened, trying to compose himself. "I'm here to report that the Duke will not be attending tonight's dinner."
Gaius frowned, her lips tightening. "Of course," she muttered under her breath.
Mother, on the other hand, looked genuinely surprised. "Did something happen?" she asked, her voice soft but steady. "Is the Duke alright?"
The servant nodded quickly. "Yes, Duchess. I can assure you the Duke is perfectly fine. He's simply... occupied, that's all."
Across the table, Raamiz leaned back in his chair with an exaggerated sigh, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Well, if he's not here, I don't see much reason to stick around." He stood, smoothing out his jacket with a dramatic flair. "Good night, everyone."
"Raamiz—" Gaius began, but he didn't let her finish.
"I'll leave you all to your riveting evening," he said breezily, strolling toward the door like he didn't have a care in the world.
"Wait." Alba's expression remained composed, though there was some curiosity in his tone. "Did the Duke say anything else?"
The servant nodded, his gaze flickering briefly in my direction before settling on Alba. "Yes, my lord. He asked that you and Lord Zeliot meet him in the council room immediately."
Idris scoffed from his seat. "Alba, I get," he said, gesturing toward him with his fork. "But Zeliot? What could Father possibly want from him?"
As much as I hate to admit, Idris took the words right out of my mouth. What in the hell could Father want?
"Enough," Amelia said sharply, her tone leaving no room for argument. Her gaze flicked toward me, warm but slightly puzzled. "You should go, Zeliot. Both of you. Don't keep him waiting."
Gaius said nothing, but her gaze lingered on me longer than I liked.
Raamiz, who had paused mid-stride, turned back slightly, eyes locking onto mine. His usual smirk was gone, replaced by something closer to worry—or maybe caution.
Alba rose gracefully, his tone even. "We really shouldn't keep Father waiting."
I followed suit, the knot in my stomach tightening as I stood.