Leoric stared at his reflection in the washroom mirror.
The water had been running for too long. Cold against his calloused hands, washing away dirt that wasn't there. His movements were stiff and mechanical. An old habit he learn while still in the army. Blood washes off easier when it's fresh.
Thoughts raced in his mind.
What happened to Cassian?
His son, if it was still his son, had changed. The defiance at the temple. The look in his eyes when Leoric questioned him.
Cassian would never.
The old Cassian, anyway. The boy who flinched at raised voices, who apologised for breathing too loudly, who avoided conflict like the plague. The new him had edges, sharp ones.
Leoric wanted to believe the explanation. That he got trauma from the awakening, from the fear of execution, from the stress of manifesting the forbidden magic.
But the dream. His hands stilled under the running water. The dream felt too real. He saw Cassian fall into that gaping hole, screaming for help that Leoric failed to give. And something else came out wearing his son's face.
He'd woken in cold sweat and checked on Cassian immediately. He found him sleeping peacefully, chest rising and falling with each breath.
Get a grip, Leoric.
He turned off the tap and dried his hands roughly. The cloth was softer than he liked. But Alicia, his wife, insisted on importing them from the capital. He stared into the mirror. His reflection stared back.
Donned in a pressed white shirt, silver medallions pinning his collar in place. Black trousers were without a single crease. His hair was pulled in a near ponytail, though a strand had escaped and fallen across his forehead.
He looked like a chief. Proper, presentable, civilised.
He felt like a fraud.
A knock sounded from the door.
"Come in."
Marcus entered quietly. His assistant was a decade older. With greying hair at the temples and a face stiller than stone. A useful trait in the awful game called politics.
"The high priest has arrived."
Leoric's jaw tightened. Of course, he has. "Give me a moment."
He adjusted his collar and checked his reflection one last time. The warrior in him was buried under silk and silver. Good.
The duo entered the main study together. Warm sunlight flickered across the wooden sculptures his father had collected. Sculptures of warriors and past chiefs. A symbol of strength. The bookshelves were Alicia's doing. He had read a few of the books but didn't have the patience for most of them.
His desk dominated the centre. It was large, imposing and stacked with documents he'd been avoiding.
And there, in a small frame tucked at the corner, was a picture of his family. His wife's warm smile. Lucian's serious expression. Caspian mid-laugh. And Cassian, his eyes sparkled with quiet wonder.
He had lost that spark.
Leoric sat heavily in his chair and forced a neutral expression on his face. "Let him in."
Marcus opened the door.
High Priest Elvric entered like he owned the room.
The old man's white robes were immaculate, gold thread catching the light. His staff, more decorative than functional, tapped against the floor with each step.
Leoric had seen men like Elvric before. Priests who forgot they served the gods and started thinking they were gods.
In some parts of Unacia, their country, they practically were. Priests held more power than chiefs. They controlled temples, ceremonies, and tithes among others. In the capital, the High Council of Priests rivaled the king's authority.
Here in Elynor, Leoric kept that power in check. Barely.
"Pleasant morning, Chief Duskbane." Elvric's smile didn't reach his eyes.
"High Priest." Leoric gestured to the chair across from him. "Thank you for coming on such short notice. Please, sit."
Elvric sat with the careful dignity, making himself comfortable.
"Let's begin," Leoric said.
"Indeed." Elvric folded his hands on his thighs. "Your son brings about... complications."
"My son awakened the Arcane string. That's not a complication. It's a reality."
"A dangerous reality." Elvric's tone sharpened. "The last Arcane weaver destroyed Vaelora. An entire town, Chief. Gone." He snapped his fingers for emphasis. "Do you want that for Elynor?"
"The Vaeloran weaver was untrained and unstable." Leoric kept his voice level. "Cassian will be supervised."
"Supervised?" Elvric's eyebrows rose. "By whom? You? You're not a weaver. You have no idea what he's capable of."
"Then we'll find someone who does."
"There is no one. Arcane weavers are executed for a reason." Elvric leaned forward. "The council has protocols…"
"The council," Leoric interrupted, "does not govern Elynor. I do."
Silence felll heavily.
Elvric's expression tightened. "The temple has authority in matters of…"
"The temple," Leoric said slowly, carefully, "advises. I appreciate that advice. But the final decision regarding my son rests with me. Not you. Not the council. Me."
Elvric's knuckles whitened on his staff.
Push back, Leoric thought. Go ahead. Let's see how far you're willing to go.
But the priest was smarter than that. He exhaled slowly, smoothing his robes. "I forget myself. You are, of course, correct. The chief's authority is absolute within his domain."
Absolute. What a joke!. If Leoric had absolute authority, he wouldn't need to play these stupid games.
"There is, however," Elvric continued, "the matter of divine law."
Here we go.
"The gods' teachings are clear," Elvric said. "Corruption must be rooted out. Dangerous elements must be removed before they spread."
"The gods' teachings," Leoric countered, "also say that what the gods create is inherently good. Everything they touch has purpose."
Elvric blinked. "I... yes, but…"
"My son awakened the Arcane string, a gift from Mother Celeste herself, during the ceremony. Are you suggesting her judgment is flawed?"
The priest's mouth opened and opened like a fish. "Of course not, but the Arcane string…"
"It is a creation of the gods." Leoric leaned back, watching Elvric squirm. "You just agreed. Everything the gods make is good. Cassian having the Arcane string must be fate. Divine will. Who are we to question it?"
Checkmate.
Elvric's jaw clenched silently. He couldn't argue without contradicting himself. Couldn't claim Cassian was dangerous without implying the gods made a mistake.
Finally, the priest forced out, "You raise... valid theological points."
"I'm glad we agree."
Another strained silence fell.
Elvric shifted in his seat. "Still. Your son was... different at the temple. Acting out of character. Disrespectful, even."
Leoric's skin prickled.
"He sat on the floor during your speech," Elvric continued, tone casual but eyes narrowed. "Spoke to you as if... well. He's never done that before. In all my years knowing your family, Cassian was always so... docile."
He is too observant. Damn him.
"He awakened forbidden magic and nearly got executed," Leoric said flatly. "I'd be surprised if he wasn't different."
"Of course." Elvric smiled thinly. "Trauma changes people. Though it's remarkable how much he's changed in just one day."
"Are you implying something, High Priest?"
"Not at all." Elvric stood, smoothing his robes. "Simply an observation. I'm sure you've noticed it yourself."
I have. That's the problem.
"Children grow up," Leoric said. "Sometimes faster than we expect."
"Indeed." Elvric picked up his staff. "I'll leave you to your work, Chief. Thank you for the... productive discussion."
"Marcus will see you out."
Elvric tilted his head, barely polite, and left with Marcus trailing behind.
The door closed.
Leoric exhaled slowly, tension seeping from his shoulders. He rubbed his face warily.
That could have gone worse.
But Elvric's words lingered. He's never done that before.
No. He hadn't.
The door opened again. Marcus returned carrying a stack of documents. "Your pending reports, my lord."
Leoric waved him forward. "Anything urgent?"
"Village border disputes. Tax collection reports. Grain shortage in the eastern farms." Marcus set them down. "And this."
He placed a sealed letter on top. It had red wax, a military seal.
Leoric broke it open and scanned the contents. His expression darkened.
"Bandits?" Marcus asked.
"Worse. Organised raids along the western roads. Three villages hit in two weeks. They're not stealing, they're burning. Killing." Leoric set the letter down. "This isn't opportunistic crime. Someone's coordinating them."
"Do you want me to mobilise the guard?"
"Not yet. I need more…"
The door burst open.
A young messenger stumbled in, panting with wide eyes.
"My lord! Your son has been attacked!"
Leoric's blood ran cold. He was on his feet before the boy finished speaking. "What?"
"At your house, my lord. A creature broke in. Cassian and young Master Caspian were inside…"
Leoric didn't wait for more. He shoved past the messenger and ran out.