Chapter 12: Journey to the capital (1)
The study smelled of old paper and embers.
Late afternoon light slanted through tall windows, catching motes of dust that drifted like tiny stars. Maps and ledgers were spread across Arione Vale's table as the day's business had been paused mid-breath.
Arione sat in his high-backed chair with the steady calm of a man who had learned to wait on storms.
Lyra Dareth Vale rested one elbow on the table, chin in hand, her posture all composed but anyone can feel the raging storm of wrath underneath.
Charles hovered near the hearth, hands folded, the picture of officious devotion.
"The fact that it was a member of the Silent Court is quite a surprise,"
Arione said. His voice did not rise, but it carried the weight of someone used to giving orders and having them obeyed. "They were supposed to have been extinguished a decade ago."
"Supposed to, yes. Yet embers can smolder where no one looks," Charles inclined his head.
"It only proves the wisdom of Her Majesty. Empress Seraphina did not hesitate. She recommended the children to Starfall before the palace could even receive a full report. Who else would think so swiftly? Who else would secure neutral ground with such foresight?"
Charles said the name with a reverence that sounded like worship.
He continued, words smoothing themselves into praise as naturally as wind over silk.
"The Empress understands the long view. Starfall is beyond crowns and courts. There the children will be safe and trained. Her foresight spares us the temptation of hasty retaliation and gives the boys a chance to become more than the rumors will make of them."
Arione nodded as if absorbing a pleasant scent. He agreed with the cadence of Charles's words, polite and deliberate.
Lyra watched both men with a slow, private amusement.
Inwardly she rolled her eyes at Charles's sermonizing, at the way his every sentence folded back into gratitude for the Empress.
She had known Seraphina in a different light, when they were rivals, friends rather than Empress and Duchess embroiled in politics.
Charles did not notice the small, mischievous expression. He kept on going,
"With your permission, Duke, and if the Duchess will accept the invitation, the Empire will escort the children to the Lake of Mists. From there, Starfield will receive them. It is the safest path."
Lyra let out a breath. "Permission? You flatter me." She closed her eyes briefly, forcing a smile that was mostly for the others' benefit.
"Very well. If the Empire wishes to shelter our sons, I will not refuse sanctuary."
The room shifted, small sounds of feet on stone. Butler Hans appeared at the doorway, his face grave though his voice was steady. "My lord, my lady, the children have awakened. Both Ethan and Kael are conscious. The physician Remi reports that their conditions are stable."
Lyra rose so fast the chair became splinters, skirts and cloak a blur as she went down the corridor leaving a whirlwind and an Arione covered in papers behind.
Charles already found a very interesting spot on the wall to look at.
Inside the infirmary, the boys were busy eating their food like hungry pigs.
Ethan's eyes widened when he saw his mother, and for a moment all rational grievances dissolved into the simple relief of being held.
"We are leaving for Solaris," Lyra announced once she had them gathered, her tone brisk as a commander's. "The Empress has offered an escort.. Safrene, ready the carriages. You and Temari will go with us. Get your things. This will be a long journey."
Ethan hesitated, words spilling out before he could stop them.
"Mother, what about the man? The one who…"
Lyra's fingers tightened once at his shoulder. Her eyes were sharp but soft.
"Do not dwell on shadows now. There will be time enough for answers after we reach the capital. For now, we pack. We travel. You will be safe."
Ethan saw the deflection, the deliberate change in subject, and for the first time the uncomfortable truth occurred to him. He is still too weak to really do something.
The Vale convoy moved out at dawn the next day. Carriages rolled through mist that clung to hedgerows like breath.
Guards rode at flank, banners snapping, faces taut with a practiced calm that belied the urgency in their stride. Lyra sat at the front with Temari and Safrene at her side.
When they had gone, Arione returned to his study. The warmth of the hearth did not thaw the cold of his heart.
He walked to the map table, fingers hovering over inked routes and old battle marks as if reading the veins of the land.
Finally, he allowed the armor of courtly civility and ever lasting big smile to fall away. Anger settled into a cold and dangerous clarity.
The Silent Court had crept back from supposed extinction.
That meant they were more than whispers, more than rumors. It meant there were lives still at stake and traitors still breathing. Arione pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Sir Charles and Hans will lead a convoy towards the East, the last biggest camp we destroyed of the Red ones is in the creek area. I will be visiting an old friend near the northern mountains and will join you afterwards."
Charles did not like being ordered by someone else other than the Empress but thinking about the implications of resurgence of the silent court he swallowed his pride.
Wiping out the Silent Court will help the Empress reduce one of her many worries.
"Hmph! We already beat them once, we will beat them again. Let's go." Charles moved out of the room and Hans followed.
Arione tidied up his desk and took out a yellowed parchment from a secret apartment in the desk. It had just a mountain, a long road and a tree drawn.
"Time to bring some reinforcement"
.........….
The chapel smelled of melted wax and sanctimony. It was too sweet, too heavy, too false.
Sister Olivia knelt anyway.
Her back was a perfect line of poise and grace, hands folded just so, chin dipped to the exact angle that conveyed humility without subservience.
The light from the stained glass cast a saint's halo around her face, and the soft silk of her habit framed her features in demure perfection.
To the world, she was an angel in flesh, a woman so pure that sin must surely shrivel in her presence.
If only they knew their saintess was thinking about grilled pork belly and beer that she was going to devour after completing her mission this time.
"Half these worshippers are here for gossip, not God, And the other half wouldn't recognize divinity if it spat in their soup." Olivia analyzed every person in the room, Her knees are already numbing.
Still, appearances mattered. The illusion had to be flawless. She is the most beautiful, most pure saintess of the Church of the seven in the western province of Solaris.
That was why the soft click from beneath the altar set her heart racing. It was barely audible, just the subtle shift of brass against stone, but Olivia's instincts sharpened instantly.
The votive sconce on the far side of the chapel had rotated half a degree, nothing a priest would notice, but enough to make her blood run colder.
The drop.
She waited until only a handful of the worshippers had left before gliding forward with the same serene grace she always wore like armor.
A casual brush of her sleeve against the sconce was all it took, and a slim, wax-sealed scroll slid into her palm from a hidden compartment.
Her expression didn't change. It never did.
She broke the seal and scanned the coded words beneath the veil of her folded hands,
"These pictograms...Hare, Eagle, Sword….Another one from the Vales? Ethan again? What now? More toys for killing pests?"
But then everything inside her twisted. Her breath stuttered. Her heart stopped.
"...Oh, shit,"
A novice a few pews away turned to look, wide-eyed. Olivia plastered on her sweetest, most beatific smile. The girl flushed scarlet and spun back around.
Olivia did not have enough brian cells for paying attention to cute distractions.
The message burned in her mind as she rose, Her pace quickened through the candle lit corridor, robes whispering like the calm before a storm. Her thoughts raced faster than her feet.
An artificial magical beast! Ethan Vale had actually made one. And now that the secret is out…
Every faction on the continent would want it. Scholars, armies, cults, all of them. And House Vale?
They are powerful but their enemy needs just one chance.
The records office door slammed open under her foot, the sound cracking through the monastery's silence.
"Lupas!" she barked, breathless, furious. "We have a situation at House Vale."
Then she closed the door fast. After some time Lupas's secretary got out with a flushed face.