Rebirth System: Blood and Ash

Aric allowed himself a small grin. "If something goes wrong, you'll be ready to move. Understood?"

One by one, they nodded, though the tension in the room remained.

The meeting ended shortly after, the weight of the plan settling over them all like a storm cloud. As the others filed out, Aric remained behind, his gaze fixed on the map spread across the table.

Fear was a tool. A weapon. And soon, the Draken envoy would know exactly how sharp it could be.

———

Few hours later, the night was filled with silence, interupted by the occasional rustle of the trees outside Aric's estate.

A faint candlelight flickered in the study where Aric sat, his fingers drumming against the table as he scanned the reports Maxim's men had sent back. It hadn't taken long—mere hours, really—but the news was exactly what he expected: a lone carriage moving through an isolated trail, one far removed from the typical roads. Strange, deliberate, and suspicious.

Maxim stood across from him, his posture rigid, face shadowed by the dim light. His men had done their job well, but the tension in the room said it all.

"They're taking a route no one would think to patrol," Maxim said, his voice low. "Avoiding Ezra's path entirely. Clever, but not clever enough."

Aric didn't respond immediately. He stared down at the rough map spread across the table, his eyes narrowing on the marked trail. Clever indeed, but desperation made even the most cunning minds careless. The envoy was trying to slip into the capital unnoticed. That wouldn't happen—not on his watch.

Alan entered the study, his heavy boots thudding softly against the wooden floor. He didn't wait for permission to speak. "Let me take the Faithless Men, Your Highness. This reeks of a trap, and your power should remain in the shadows for now. They're nothing we can't handle."

Aric glanced up, his sharp gaze cutting through Alan's concern. "No."

"Your Highness, with all due respect, you don't need to risk yourself for this," Alan pressed. His usual stoic tone wavered just slightly, betraying his unease. "The Faithless Men are trained and prepared for this exact kind of mission. Let us do what we're meant to do."

For a moment, Aric's expression softened, as if he understood the sentiment behind Alan's words. Then, with the flick of his hand, he dismissed the notion.

"This isn't about ability," Aric said, his voice calm but firm. "This is about control. Power isn't just about strength, Alan. It's about presence. They need to see me. They need to know who I am."

"But why now?" Alan's voice rose slightly, almost challenging. "You've spent all this time working from the shadows, Your Highness. Revealing yourself like this... it could undo everything."

Aric stood, his movements deliberate, and paced to the window. He looked out at the dark expanse beyond, his reflection faint in the glass. "You're thinking like a soldier. I'm thinking like a ruler. Fear isn't just a tool—it's a foundation. I need them to feel it. I need them to understand that I'm not some shadowy force whispering in the wind. I'm here. Flesh and blood. And I'm capable of oppressing."

Alan exhaled sharply, crossing his arms. He didn't like it, that much was clear, but he knew better than to argue further. When Aric's mind was set, there was no turning him.

Maxim broke the tension with a short nod. "The carriage will reach the bend in the trail by dawn if they keep their pace. You'll have your moment then."

Aric turned back to the table, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "Good. Then it's settled."

———

The forest was alive with the sounds of night, a mix of rustling leaves and distant animal calls. The faint glow of the moon filtered through the canopy, making fragmented light onto the trail below. The Draken envoy's carriage moved steadily, its iron wheels creaking softly against the uneven path.

The guards flanked it on either side, their expressions tense and alert. It was clear they didn't like this route any more than their passengers did. One of them, a grizzled man with a scar cutting across his cheek, kept his hand on the hilt of his sword as his eyes darted between the shadows.

"This path doesn't sit right with me," he muttered to the man beside him.

"It's supposed to feel wrong," the other replied, younger and less scarred but no less wary. "That's why no one will expect it."

"Still..." The older guard trailed off, his eyes narrowing. Ahead of them, the trail curved sharply, disappearing into the thick forest beyond.

Then, the carriage came to an abrupt halt.

"What is it?" a voice called from within, sharp and commanding.

The driver, pale-faced and trembling, pointed ahead. "There's... someone in the road." Experience more tales on empireNôv(el)B\\jnn

The guards immediately moved into formation, drawing their weapons as their eyes locked onto the figure standing in the middle of the path. Cloaked and motionless, the person looked like a statue carved from the very shadows of the forest.

"Who goes there?" the scarred guard barked, his voice echoing through the trees.

The figure didn't respond.

"I said, who goes there?" he repeated, taking a step forward, his sword raised.

Still nothing.

The silence was suffocating, the kind that made every creak of leather and every rustle of leaves feel deafening.

Finally, the figure moved, lifting a gloved hand to lower the hood of their cloak. The guards froze, their eyes widening as the dim moonlight revealed the face beneath.

Aric Valerian stood before them, his sharp features illuminated by the pale glow. There was something almost otherworldly about the way he held himself, his gaze piercing and unyielding.

"I am the fourth prince of Valeria," he said, his voice steady and cold, cutting through the night like a blade. "And I apologize, but this is as far as you'll be going today."

The guards hesitated, their grip on their weapons tightening. There was a moment of silence.

And then, the forest seemed to stop breathing aswell.