The chamber was quiet save for the rustle of parchment and the crackle of a brazier. Prince Elric sat with a tightened jaw, reading through the newest reports while Arlen stood to the side, arms folded, his gaze sharp and cold.
The messenger, still kneeling, trembled under the weight of their silence.
"So," the prince said at last, his voice clipped. "The royal sisters, once little more than ornamental voices at court, now walk the streets of Greyspire as saviors. Essential goods flowing into markets, nobles praising their vision, commoners rallying behind them… and a masked guardian at their side."
He set the parchment down with deliberate calm."This reeks of orchestration."
Arlen's lips thinned into a hard line. "A shadow at their back, assassins vanishing, no blade ever touching them… Your Highness, this is no natural surge of fortune. This is the work of an organization. Someone is shaping perception, planting fear, eliminating threats before they even draw breath. The mask is their emblem, their message."
"An organization," the prince murmured, tapping the parchment. "But one that moves without banners, without names. And they've chosen my cousins as their pawns."
His eyes darkened. "Find them. If the sisters believe they can secure Greyspire and march on the throne, then they must be made to remember who truly rules."
Arlen gave a sharp nod. "It will be done. Shadows may hide them, but shadows leave trails."
Far below the surface, within Kael's Dungeon, shadows breathed with life. The grand cavern shimmered with bioluminescent veins along its walls, and at its heart lay the egg.
It pulsed now with a steady rhythm, each beat echoing like a living heart. Golden-red veins of light intertwined with icy-blue threads that spiraled across its shell, the two elements clashing and weaving in perfect opposition. Fire and frost. Heat and chill. A contradiction contained within a single form.
The little girl sat cross-legged beside it, her hands pressed to its warm surface. Each time it pulsed beneath her palms, her eyes lit up with wonder. Beside her, the lizard—newly shrunken to the size of a great hound—tilted its massive head, snout nearly touching the shell, as if trying to smell the life inside.
"I can feel it," the girl whispered, eyes wide. "It wants to come out soon. But… what is it? Why does it have both fire and ice?"
The Megalania gave a low rumble, uncertain.
Her gaze drifted toward the great pool where the water dragon reclined, its long body coiled like a guardian serpent, scales glinting in the dim glow. Tentatively, the girl rose and padded barefoot across the stone to where the dragon watched in silence.
"Great one," she said softly, her small voice carrying in the cavern. "What creature is in the egg? It feels… different. Stronger than any beast I've ever seen. And it has two powers at once."
The water dragon's eyes—ancient, fathomless sapphires—lowered to her. A slow rumble shook the cavern as it exhaled, mist curling from its nostrils.
"That egg…" the dragon's voice thrummed like a tide rolling over stone, "was not born of this age. It carries within it the blood of a line long thought extinct. Fire and frost bound together in one shell. A creature of contradiction—yet of balance."
The girl's eyes widened further. "Then… what is it?"
The dragon's gaze lingered on the egg, the pulsing light reflecting in its eyes."It is a wyrmling of the Twinfang lineage… a drake that wields both searing flame and glacial frost. When it hatches, the world will feel its presence. Even I cannot say if it will bring harmony… or devastation."
The egg pulsed again—harder this time, shaking the very stones around it.
The girl pressed her hands over her chest, her heart beating fast with both fear and wonder. "Then I'll be here when it comes. I'll be the first it sees."
And somewhere in the shadows, Kael felt the Dungeon's echo—the notification of imminent awakening, the whisper of power about to enter the world.
A sudden ripple coursed through Kael's mind—the Dungeon's voice, cold and precise.
[Dungeon Notification: Core growth nearing threshold.][Estimated advancement: D-Rank within 2 days if magic core supply continues.]
Kael's eyes narrowed as the message burned across his vision. So soon? The egg, the lizard, the endless expansion—the pace of evolution was accelerating faster than he had predicted. A D-Rank Dungeon would not just be a fortress; it would be a power that could rival kingdoms.
But he knew power alone could not sustain itself. Influence was needed. Trust was needed. Resources—above all else—were needed.
That evening, Kael sat beneath the open pavilion of a Greyspire estate, disguised still under the plain robes of a traveling merchant. Across the table sat three local nobles from the stretch of fertile land near his home village. Unlike the gluttonous aristocrats of the capital, these men and women bore calloused hands and weathered faces—nobles born not of lineage, but of labor.
"My company," Kael spoke smoothly, "is prepared to secure regular shipments of food and material from your estates. Grain, vegetables, fruit, milk, meat, spices—everything your people can raise. In addition, furs, teeth, and monster bone from hunts will also have steady value in Greyspire markets."
One of the nobles, Lord Daren, leaned forward. His coat was patched in places, a reminder that his rise to nobility had not erased the memory of toil. "And in return?"
Kael smiled beneath the hood. "Fair compensation. Steady coin at prices untouched by the capital's corruption. Moreover—stability. Your people will not starve in famine, nor will they be bled dry by greed."
Murmurs passed among them. One woman—Lady Mirea, who had once worked her family's farmland with bare hands—gave a sharp nod. "We are not like the great houses. Our roots are still in the soil. We know what it means to work. If your trade company deals with us fairly, then we will uphold our word."
Kael inclined his head. "Good. Understand this as well—once the company grows, once more contracts are secured, I will ensure we expand procurement to include all territories you govern. Every family under your banner will have a place in this growth."
A silence fell, heavy with unspoken weight, before Daren let out a long breath. "Then you have us, merchant. We will stand with you."
Later, walking the torchlit streets, Kael allowed himself a faint smile beneath his mask.
Not all nobles were parasites. Some still remembered the soil, the call of common life, the dignity of building with their own hands. These were the kind worth binding into his web—pragmatic, reliable, and untainted by greed.
The Dungeon pulsed again in his mind, a reminder of the egg, the lizard, the endless tide of growth. Power was rising, both in the shadows below and in the markets above.
And Kael intended to weave them into one.