Calvin stood from the bed, the faint flicker of candlelight casting shadows across his bare form. The Blightspire Core sat on a nearby table, its presence undeniable. Its faint hum filled the silence, as if alive, its crimson veins pulsing like a heartbeat.
"What… is that?" Calvin asked, his tone laced with curiosity but carefully measured to sound ignorant. He walked slowly toward it, his movements deliberate, as though it might lash out if startled.
The king's servant, still seated on the bed, hesitated. "I don't know much. It's something the scholars dismissed—an artifact from old ruins. They said it was too unstable to study further, so it's been sitting in the treasury for years."
Calvin turned, his expression one of mild incredulity. "You're telling me you've had this sitting around, glowing like the devil's jewel, and no one knows what it does? Seems… reckless."
The servant shifted uneasily, pulling a blanket around himself. "It's nothing. Just an old relic. Dangerous, sure, but nothing we could use. If it were valuable, the king would've ordered it studied."
Calvin smirked inwardly but let none of it show. He leaned casually against the table, his body relaxed but his mind sharp. "Maybe you're right. Maybe it's just junk. But…" He let the word hang in the air, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the Core.
The servant frowned. "But what?"
Calvin turned to face him, his tone shifting to one of concern mixed with intrigue. "Look, I'm no scholar, but I've heard stories. Objects like this… They're not just things. They're keys. Keys to something bigger. Power, maybe. And if the wrong person gets their hands on it—" He paused, letting the servant fill in the blank.
The servant's face tightened. "You think someone's after it?"
Calvin nodded solemnly, stepping closer. "I'm not saying for sure, but think about it. Why would this appear here, now? Maybe it's nothing. Or maybe someone wants it for themselves—someone who knows exactly what it can do."
The servant's unease was palpable now. Calvin seized the moment, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I'm only saying this because I trust you. I've seen what happens when people underestimate things like this. Wars are started. Kings fall. It's not just about you—it's about your kingdom. Your people."
The servant swallowed hard, his eyes darting toward the Core. "Then… what should I do? I can't bring this to the king. He'll think I'm being paranoid."
Calvin's expression softened, almost paternal. "You don't need to involve him. You just need to let me handle it. I'll take it somewhere safe, somewhere it can't hurt anyone or fall into the wrong hands."
The servant hesitated, his loyalty warring with the fear Calvin had so expertly sown. "But… it's still the king's property."
Calvin placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, leaning in close. "And you'll be protecting him by letting me take this off your hands. No one needs to know. You'll be the one who saved your kingdom from a threat they didn't even realize was there."
The servant's resolve cracked, his shoulders slumping as he nodded. "You're right. Take it. Just… don't let it come back to haunt us."
Calvin smiled, his charm unwavering. "You're doing the right thing. Trust me."
As the servant handed over the Blightspire Core, Calvin's fingers brushed against its surface. The whispers grew louder in his mind, and he knew this was only the beginning.
Calvin already knew exactly what the Blightspire Core was.
The moment his fingers made contact with its surface, he felt its hum resonate deep within his chest, as though it was alive, responding to him. He kept his expression neutral, carefully masking the surge of triumph he felt. This wasn't just an artifact from some forgotten ruin—it was a source of immense, untapped power.
The servant turned away, his shoulders still tense with worry. Calvin took the opportunity to slip the Core into his satchel, the artifact surprisingly warm against his palm.
As he secured the bag, his mind raced. The Core wasn't just a relic—it was a conduit, capable of amplifying magical energy and bending reality itself. He'd heard whispers of it during his travels, vague rumors spoken in hushed tones. Most dismissed it as a myth, but Calvin had always suspected there was truth buried in the stories.
And now, here it was, practically handed to him on a silver platter.
The servant, still sitting on the edge of the bed, looked up at Calvin. "You'll keep it safe, right?"
Calvin met his gaze, his expression sincere. "Of course. I'll make sure it's far away from anyone who could misuse it."
The servant nodded, relief washing over his face. He believed Calvin's every word, as so many others had before him.
But Calvin's true thoughts were far from noble.
He had no intention of hiding the Blightspire Core away. This wasn't something to bury or lock away in some forgotten vault. This was power—raw, unrestrained power—and it was his now. He'd already begun planning how to use it, how to test its limits.
As he left the room and stepped into the cool night air, Calvin's mind was already spinning with possibilities. The Core pulsed faintly through the bag at his side, as if alive, as if it recognized its new master.
By the time he reached the secluded area behind the house, he was eager to inspect it further. He set the bag down and pulled the Core out, the artifact glowing softly in the moonlight. He'd removed his shirt earlier, both to avoid damaging it and to feel the artifact's energy more directly.
The Core's hum grew louder as he cradled it in his hands. Tendrils of crimson light curled out from its surface, wrapping around his fingers like living threads. Calvin grinned, exhilarated by the sheer potential coursing through him.
He didn't notice Seraphina until her voice broke through the silence.
"Uh… Calvin."
His head snapped up, his easy grin returning in an instant. He didn't miss a beat, slipping the Core back into his bag with practiced nonchalance.
And as he spun his tale, weaving half-truths and misdirections with effortless charm, he felt no guilt. Seraphina didn't suspect a thing.
To her, Calvin was the same noble leader, handsome ally he'd always been.
But to himself, Calvin was something entirely different: a man who now held the key to a power that could reshape the world.
Present:
Calvin watched Seraphina disappear down the cobblestone street before turning back to the door he had come from. He slipped inside quietly, the room still dimly lit by the glow of a few scattered candles. Visier Tostig sat in an armchair by the fire, sipping a goblet of wine, his imposing figure relaxed but ever alert.
Calvin leaned casually against the wall, his bag securely slung over his shoulder. "Visier," he began with a sly grin, "I have a request."
Visier raised an eyebrow, setting the goblet down on the small table beside him. "Oh? And what would that be, Mr. J?" His tone was calm, measured, but there was a flicker of curiosity in his dark eyes.
Calvin stepped closer, the flickering fire casting sharp shadows across his sharp features. "I need you to stage an attack—just outside of Brittlefrost."
Visier leaned back, his armored hand drumming lightly on the armrest. "An attack? Why would I jeopardize my forces on such a venture?"
Calvin's smile widened, his tone taking on an air of quiet urgency. "Because they're planning on attacking Tootall-Doodle Kingdom. If you wait too long, they'll strike first, and by then, it'll be too late to respond effectively."
Visier's eyes narrowed slightly, his posture shifting as he processed the claim. "The Protectors would launch an assault on my kingdom? Why would they risk such a bold move?"
Calvin shrugged, pacing slowly across the room as if weighing his words. "Desperation, perhaps. Or arrogance. Maybe they've underestimated your forces and think they can claim your resources for themselves. Whatever the reason, the attack will happen—and soon."
Visier studied him carefully, his sharp mind picking apart the information. "And how, pray tell, do you know this, Mr. J? Spying on kingdoms isn't a simple task, even for someone of your… talents."
Calvin stopped pacing, turning to face Visier directly. His expression was serious now, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Because I've been spying on the king of Brittlefrost. Every move, every conversation—I've seen it all. And I overheard plans being drawn up to dispatch the Protectors to your doorstep."
Visier's eyes widened in surprise, the revelation striking like a hammer blow. "You've been spying on the king?" he repeated, his voice laced with both awe and suspicion.
Calvin nodded solemnly, stepping closer. "I've risked much to gather this information, Visier. Do you think I'd bring this to you lightly? I'm telling you because I see the bigger picture. If they succeed, it won't just be your kingdom that suffers. Their ambitions won't stop there."
Visier's jaw tightened as he considered Calvin's words. "And where, exactly, are these so-called Protectors planning to strike?"
Calvin smirked, his confidence radiating like the firelight in the room. "They'll be gathering near the Frostwood Pass. A strategic location for their forces to regroup before moving on to your lands. If you act quickly, you can intercept them before they even know what's coming."
Visier stroked his beard thoughtfully, his gaze distant as he processed the information. "And what's in this for you, Mr. J? You seem too clever to be offering such intelligence purely out of the goodness of your heart."
Calvin's smirk deepened, his voice taking on a lighter, almost playful tone. "Oh, Visier, I'm flattered you think so highly of me. But let's just say I have my reasons. Maybe I dislike seeing arrogance go unchecked. Or maybe I have a certain… appreciation for Tootall-Doodle and its most distinguished leaders."
Visier chuckled, though his eyes remained sharp. "You're a dangerous man, Mr. J. But I like dangerous men—they tend to get things done."
Calvin gave a small bow, his grin never fading. "Then I take it you'll head back to your kingdom and prepare?"
Visier nodded, rising from his chair with the slow, deliberate movements of a seasoned warrior. "Indeed. If what you say is true, then there's no time to waste. I'll mobilize my forces at once."
As Visier began strapping on his gauntlets, he glanced back at Calvin, his expression thoughtful. "You're playing a dangerous game, my friend. But for now, I'll trust your word. Let's hope you're as good as you think you are."
Calvin chuckled, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he headed for the door. "Oh, Visier, I'm better than I think I am. Safe travels."
He slipped out into the night, the faint hum of the Blightspire Core echoing faintly in his thoughts. As he made his way back toward the streets,