Chapter 12: Plan Set in Motion
POV: Alaric
Avalon Calendar, Year 103, Month of Frost, Twenty-Fifth Day
The chill of winter had deepened in the days since the assassination attempt, painting the abbey's gardens in frost and ice. I sat in one of the abbey's study chambers, staring at the flickering light of a candle as I tried to focus on the words of an ancient scripture. The monks had given me these texts to read after the attack, saying they might bring clarity and peace.
But there was no peace to be found.
The woman, Ira, was still being held in one of the abbey's fortified chambers. She hadn't spoken much, and when she did, her words were cold and clipped, as if she was calculating every syllable. The man, Fergal, hadn't been so lucky. I couldn't get the image of him falling to the ground out of my mind—the blood pooling around him, the way his eyes had widened in shock before he collapsed.
I hadn't wanted to kill him, but I'd had no choice.
"Alaric?"
The voice startled me, and I looked up to see Lyra standing in the doorway. Her face was pale, and her hands gripped the folds of her dress tightly. "There's… someone here to see you."
"Who?" I asked, closing the book and standing.
Lyra hesitated. "He says he's an envoy from the Grand Duchy of Carlos."
---
The man waiting in the abbey's receiving hall was tall and thin, with a sharp nose and a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He wore a deep blue cloak trimmed with silver, the emblem of Carlos embroidered on his chest.
"Prince Alaric," he said, bowing deeply as I entered. "It is an honor to meet you."
I studied him warily, my hand resting on the hilt of the dagger I now carried everywhere. "What brings you to the abbey?"
"My name is Lord Alden," he said smoothly. "I am here as a representative of the Grand Duchy of Carlos. We have heard of your miraculous awakening, and my lord, Duke Rafael, wished to extend his congratulations and support to you."
I raised an eyebrow. "Support?"
"Indeed," Alden said, his tone unctuous. "The Duchy of Carlos has long valued its ties to the northern kingdoms, and we recognize the importance of your future. My lord believes that a strong alliance between Carlos and Norte would benefit both our realms."
---
I wasn't sure what to make of him. His words sounded polite enough, but something about his demeanor set me on edge.
"I'll pass your message to my father," I said carefully. "But I'm not in a position to discuss alliances."
"Of course," Alden said, bowing again. "Still, I hope you'll accept this token of goodwill."
He gestured to one of his attendants, who stepped forward with a small, ornate box. When I opened it, I found a beautifully crafted ring inside, its centerpiece a polished sapphire.
"It is a gift," Alden said. "To symbolize the bond between Carlos and Norte."
I nodded, though I didn't put the ring on. "Thank you."
Alden inclined his head. "I hope this is the beginning of a fruitful relationship, Your Highness."
---
After the envoy left, I returned to the study chamber, the ring still in my hand. I turned it over, studying the intricate designs etched into the band. Something about the gift felt… off.
Lyra appeared at the doorway again, her brow furrowed. "Do you trust him?"
I shook my head. "No."
"Should we inform the king?"
"I think we should," I said, slipping the ring back into its box. "Something isn't right. And I have a feeling this isn't just about alliances."
---
POV: Ira
The cold stone walls of the abbey's holding chamber were unrelenting, and I could feel the chill seep into my bones as I sat against the wall, my wrists bound in iron shackles. The boy had been merciful—more merciful than I expected for someone who had nearly been killed by me.
But mercy didn't mean freedom.
The door creaked open, and one of the monks entered, carrying a tray of food. He set it down without a word, his gaze cautious, before leaving just as quickly.
I picked at the bread, my mind racing. The Empire wouldn't abandon me, but the failure of the mission would change things. They wouldn't act directly, not after this. They'd find another way—another weakness to exploit.
The boy was dangerous, yes, but not because of his power. He was dangerous because of what he represented. A symbol. A rallying point for the northern kingdoms.
And symbols were far harder to destroy than people.
---
The door creaked open again, and this time it wasn't a monk. Alaric stepped inside, his crimson eyes unreadable as he stood just beyond the threshold.
"Are you here to gloat, little prince?" I asked, my tone mocking.
He didn't rise to the bait. Instead, he stepped closer, his dagger visible at his side. "I want to know why you were sent after me," he said simply.
I leaned back against the wall, crossing my arms as best I could with the shackles. "You already know why. You're a threat to the Empire. Killing you would solve a lot of problems."
"Who sent you?"
I hesitated, debating whether to answer. There was no point in lying—he wasn't stupid. "The orders came from the Marquess of Alan," I admitted. "He oversees the Empire's borderlands. But the real decision came from higher up."
He nodded, as if he'd expected the answer. "Why tell me this?"
"Because it doesn't matter," I said with a shrug. "The Empire will keep trying, one way or another. And if they can't kill you, they'll find another way to bring you down."
He frowned, his hand tightening on the hilt of his dagger. "Not if I stop them first."
I laughed, the sound bitter. "You're just a child, Alaric. You don't even know the game you're playing."
His expression hardened, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of something in his eyes—determination, tempered by the weight of responsibility.
"I'll learn," he said. "And I won't let anyone take my kingdom away."
---
POV: Marquess Alan
In Castle Belvar, the reports from Carlos had just arrived. The envoy had delivered the gift as planned, and though the boy had accepted it, he hadn't put the ring on.
"Clever little prince," I muttered, setting the report aside. "But cleverness won't save him from what's coming."
I turned to the map spread across my desk, my gaze settling on Norte. The plan was already in motion. The alliances I had begun forging with Norte's discontented nobles were progressing well, and the seeds of division had been planted.
If the boy survived this, it wouldn't matter. By the time he grew into his power, there would be no kingdom left for him to lead.
And that would be the Empire's victory.
(Continue...)