The carriage moved with a constant rattling over the dirt road. The wheels bounced on the ruts left by recent rains, sending irregular jolts through the cabin.
Kael sat by the window, watching the landscape pass with a neutral expression. His dark grey tunic was stained with road dust, but he didn't seem to notice or care. His fingers drummed a slow rhythm on the wooden frame.
Aldric occupied the opposite seat, arms crossed and sword leaning against his shoulder. He had been silent for hours, watching the road through the opposite window.
They had left Arven three hours ago. The sun was beginning its descent toward the horizon, staining the clouds orange and purple.
Behind them lay a city that still did not fully comprehend what had happened in a single night. Rumors spread like fire in dry straw: clan war, divine vengeance, imperial conspiracies. The Imperial Inspectors worked day and night interrogating witnesses, confiscating properties, trying to put together a puzzle where the pieces had been deliberately scattered.
The Kladis mansion had been sealed. The Torren mansion was ashes. The documents that had not been stolen or burned were now in the hands of bureaucrats who would spend months, perhaps years, unraveling the tangle of corruption, debts, and conspiracies.
But the most important thing was this: no witness mentioned a ten-year-old boy. Some remembered a "young noble" hiding during the chaos. Others not even that. Kael Drayvar had been a ghost in his own masterpiece.
The Voss family, meanwhile, was beginning the slow process of recovery. Donal had already contacted former partners, renegotiating contracts with the advantage that his biggest competitors were dead or in prison. The northern routes, those very routes that had been the coveted prize, were now open to whoever had the courage to take them.
And Nia... Nia studied. She read her father's trade books at night. She practiced calligraphy. She listened to conversations behind doors. She prepared for the day the message would arrive.
All of this was the result of a week of chaos. But chaos, as Kael was learning, was only the first step. Destruction was easy. Building on the ruins required something more.
Aldric frowned.
Something didn't fit.
He leaned forward, looking out the window more closely. The trees at the sides of the road were different. Denser. Older. And the road itself...
"We deviated," Aldric murmured.
Kael did not reply. He kept looking out his window.
Aldric tensed. He half-rose, hitting the roof of the carriage with his fist.
"Marcus! Marcus, stop!"
The carriage did not stop. It continued at the same steady pace.
"Marcus!" Aldric shouted, louder this time. "This is not the road to Stormvale! We deviated miles ago!"
The carriage continued.
Aldric half-drew his sword, ready to jump from the moving vehicle and confront the driver. His hand was already on the door latch when Kael's voice stopped him.
"Sit down, Aldric."
Aldric turned to him, his eyes burning with frustration and alarm.
"Sit down? They're taking us the wrong way! This is a kidnapping or a trap!"
"Sit down," Kael repeated, this time looking him directly in the eye. His tone was not a plea. It was an order.
Aldric hesitated. The hand on the hilt of his sword trembled for a second. Then, slowly, he sat down again. But he didn't let go of the sword.
"Explain yourselves," Aldric said, his voice low but tense. "Now."
Kael sighed. He stopped looking out the window and leaned back against the seat, closing his eyes for a moment as if gathering strength.
"We're not going home," Kael said.
Aldric froze.
"What?"
"We're not going back to Stormvale," Kael repeated, opening his eyes. "We're going somewhere else."
Aldric's hand squeezed the hilt of his sword so hard his knuckles turned white.
"Explain yourselves," he hissed. "Now."
Kael looked at him with that unnatural calm that made older people feel profoundly uncomfortable.
"We have things to do, Aldric. We can't go back yet."
"Things?" Aldric leaned forward, invading Kael's space. "What things? We just destroyed two noble Houses, caused a fire that probably killed a dozen guards, and helped a lunatic assassinate the Kladis heir! We need to go home before someone connects the dots!"
"No one is going to connect anything," Kael said with a certainty that didn't feel entirely real. "We were ghosts. There is no proof."
"There are always proofs!" Aldric exploded. "Witnesses! Rumors! An over-clever inspector! And if someone mentions the Drayvar name...!"
"Then my father will handle it," Kael interrupted. His voice was cold, cutting. "He is the Grand Duke. He knows how to erase tracks. But we... we can't go back. Not yet."
Aldric took a deep breath, trying to control the frustration boiling in his chest.
"Young Kael," he said, forcing a more respectful tone even though every word cost him. "Please. Explain what's happening. Because from my perspective, it seems you've lost your mind."
Kael looked at him for a long moment. Then he sighed again, more heavily this time.
"Do you think this plan was all planned by me?" Kael asked.
Aldric blinked, confused by the question.
"Yes," he replied. "Everything. From the beginning. Every move."
Kael shook his head slowly.
"Yes," he said. "But no."
"What does that mean?" Aldric gritted his teeth. "Explain yourself clearly."
Kael straightened in his seat, clasping his hands on his lap.
"Destroying the Torrens was already planned," Kael began, choosing his words carefully. "That was the original goal. Burn their house, steal their files, eliminate their bribery network. I knew that before leaving Stormvale."
Aldric frowned.
"Since before? Who...?"
"But meeting the Voss sisters," Kael continued, ignoring the question. "The situation with the Kladis. All that... that wasn't planned. It was chance."
"Chance?" Aldric repeated, incredulously.
"Chance," Kael confirmed. "One that led us to advance the plan. To improve it. The Kladis became the perfect distraction. Their scandal hid the real target: the Torrens."
Aldric processed this slowly.
"So... you used the Kladis?"
"I used them," Kael said without shame. "But the point is this, Aldric. Gareth."
"What about him?"
"Gareth is not alone," Kael said, and for the first time, something akin to uncertainty crossed his face. "It's no accident that he agreed to work with me. It's no accident that he had trained men, fake uniforms, contacts in the city."
Aldric narrowed his eyes.
"What are you saying?"
"That Gareth has partners," Kael said. "Higher up. People with resources. People who knew about the Torrens before I did."
The carriage hit a particularly large bump, shaking both of them. Aldric clung to the edge of the seat.
"Do you know who they are?" Aldric asked.
"No," Kael admitted. "But I have a theory."
"Which one?"
"People from the Drayvar family itself," Kael said. "Minor branches. Ambitious captains. People who want power but cannot take it openly."
Aldric let out a bitter laugh.
"Internal politics. Of course."
"It's like a triple attack," Kael continued, almost talking to himself. "The Torrens wanted the Voss. The Kladis wanted wealth. And someone else... someone else wanted the Torrens to fall for reasons I still don't fully understand."
He rubbed his eyes, an unusually childish gesture.
"But what I do know," Kael said, lowering his hands and looking directly at Aldric, "is that they need me. They have observed me. They have tested me. And now they need me for something more."
Aldric said nothing for a moment. He just looked at the boy in front of him, seeing the mind behind the grey eyes work at speeds he couldn't reach.
"Alright," Aldric finally said. "But that doesn't explain where we're going."
Kael smiled. It was a small, almost shy smile.
"We are going to Gareth's base. To meet the partners. To continue with phase two."
"Phase two?" Aldric felt a headache forming. "Of what?"
"The destruction of the Torrens brought us resources," Kael explained. "A lot of gold. Valuable documents. But also problems. The Torren relatives are going to find out. They are going to act. They are going to seek revenge or reclaim what remains."
"Then we should be in Stormvale, protected," Aldric insisted.
"Others are taking care of that," Kael said with a calmness he did not internally share. "What I wanted was the money. The gold."
Aldric stared at him.
"What for?"
Kael took a deep breath.
"To form a squad," he said.
The silence in the carriage was absolute. Only the rattling of the wheels and the occasional squeak of the axles could be heard.
Forming an order, a squad, a combat unit of his own was not something a ten-year-old boy could do on a whim. It required more than gold. It required legitimacy.
In the Empire of Vaeloria, any noble of sufficient rank could form a "minor order" under their name, provided they met certain requirements: a minimum number of trained fighters, resources to maintain them, and most importantly, a purpose recognized by the superior authority.
Minor orders served as extensions of a Great House's military power. They were useful for tasks that required discretion, speed, or official denial. They patrolled borders, escorted caravans, eliminated minor threats. And if they failed or committed atrocities, they could be disavowed without staining the name of the main House.
But there was a problem: Kael was too young to officially register an order. He would need an intermediary, someone of sufficient age and rank to sign the documents. And that person would have power over the order, at least on paper.
Unless... unless the order was never officially registered. A ghost order. Mercenaries with personal loyalty, not institutional. More dangerous, more flexible, more disloyal in the eyes of the law.
Kael was betting that he could control something like that. That his intelligence and his gold would be enough to maintain loyalty where legal oaths would fail.
It was a risky gamble. But everything Kael did was risky.
"A squad," Aldric repeated slowly.
"Under my name," Kael added. "And you will be the captain."
Aldric opened his mouth. He closed it. He opened it again.
"What?"
"Captain," Kael said, as if he were offering tea. "All according to plan."
"What plan?" Aldric felt he was losing control of the conversation, of reality itself. "Captain? Me? What are you talking about?"
"I don't have the definitive name yet," Kael continued, ignoring the protests. "But I already thought of one. Black Cobra."
There was another silence.
Then, Aldric exploded.
"What the hell kind of name is that?"
Kael blinked, surprised by the visceral reaction.
"Yes," he admitted. "It's a crappy name. But it has meaning."
"What the hell kind of meaning?" Aldric gestured with his hands, the sword forgotten by his side. "No! That doesn't matter. If I'm going to be captain, we need a name that intimidates. That inspires fear just by mentioning it. Black Cobra sounds... it sounds like a dock delinquent gang."
Kael tilted his head, considering.
"Do you know Torin?" he asked.
Aldric frowned at the change of subject.
"Yes. The main family instructor. What does that have to do with anything?"
"Physically?" Kael insisted.
"He's... intimidating," Aldric said. "A monster of a man. Everyone respects him."
"Now," Kael said. "But he used to be bullied."
Aldric laughed in disbelief.
"That's a lie. Master Torin was always strong."
"No," Kael corrected. "Anyone who sees Torin or my father thinks they were always strong. But no. People don't remember their beginnings. Or rather, it no longer matters. They started weak. Mocked. Humiliated. But they became strong."
Kael leaned forward.
"And people forgot the first part. Now they only know they are strong. That's what we will do with the name. It will be like a mockery at first. But in the end, it will be a name they cannot humiliate. It will be death itself."
Aldric looked at him for a long moment.
"I'm still not convinced," he finally said. "But I'll accept it."
"Good," Kael said, leaning back again.
The carriage kept moving. The sun continued to set, staining the interior of the cabin with a golden light that slowly faded.
Aldric observed Kael. The boy had returned to looking out the window, but now his posture was different. More tense. His fingers had stopped drumming and were now still, clenched into small fists on his knees.
"Young Kael?" Aldric asked softly.
"What?"
"Do you know what awaits you at that base?"
Kael did not reply immediately.
'What will await me there?' he thought, feeling his heart accelerate slightly. 'What people will I meet? What new things will I see?'
He swallowed discreetly.
'I have to calm down. I can't make mistakes. Come on, Kael. You can do this. You have what they don't have.'
A nervous laugh bubbled in his chest, but he stifled it before it could escape.
'Yes, I know.'
The laugh wanted to escape again, hysterical, a product of exhaustion and pressure. He contained it.
"No," Kael finally said, his voice lower than usual. "I don't know what awaits me."
Aldric nodded slowly. For the first time in hours, his expression softened.
"Then we go together," the knight said. "And if it's a trap, at least we die fighting."
Kael turned his head to look at him. A small, genuine smile appeared on his face.
"Thank you, Aldric."
The knight nodded.
The carriage turned onto a narrower path, entering a dense forest. The shadows of the trees wrapped around the vehicle like black fingers.
Kael looked out the window again. In the reflection of the glass, he could see his own face. A ten-year-old boy with eyes too old.
'Here we go,' he thought. 'Phase two.'
The carriage kept moving toward the unknown, carrying a boy who had learned to burn worlds and a knight who had learned to follow him into hell.
Ahead, between the trees, the first lights of a hidden fortress began to glow like yellow eyes in the darkness.