The Emperor's decree echoed across the empire, a thunderous roar that shook the foundations of the noble houses. Duke Morwyn's public disgrace and imminent execution dominated every conversation, filling the streets with a mix of fear and excitement. The public's reaction was a messy tapestry of emotion; some demanded harsher punishments for his family, a final, brutal justice, while others hailed Vaelorian and Riven as heroes, praising their bravery.
As the dust settled, two significant shifts rocked the hierarchy of the great houses. With House Morwyn erased from the records, Riven's house, once ranked fifth, was elevated to second place. It was an unprecedented leap, a public declaration of Riven's power and influence. At the same time, Barron's family, previously without a title or rank, was suddenly elevated to House number five, and given a noble title. The shockwaves of this change rippled through the empire's aristocracy.
For Barron's family, this sudden rise meant immense pressure, forcing them to learn the complex world of nobility overnight. For Riven's family, the change brought new power and influence, forever changing their alliances with other noble houses.
Riven's father, Duke Ashbourne, was summoned to the Imperial Palace the very next day. Emperor Darius, a man of few praises, personally commended him for raising such a capable young man. The Duke, a man of quiet strength, beamed with pride, accepting the Emperor's accolades with a mix of humility and elation.
Later, when the Duke met with Riven, his pride was palpable. "Your mother would be proud of you too," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "She was always a strong and supportive mother, and I know she would be very proud of the person you've become."
For a moment, Riven's carefully constructed mask of control softened. A strange warmth filled his heart, a feeling that was both his own and a memory of the young man he had replaced. This was everything the real Riven had ever wanted to hear from his father.
"Thank you, Father," Riven said, his voice softer than usual. These words were more than a show of respect; they were a testament to the promise Riven had made to the young noble whose life was cut short. He could only imagine what this moment would have felt like for the true Riven. Despite their differences, they had once been very close, and the Duke had done his best to raise his only son to be a strong and capable individual after his mother's death.
As news of House Ashbourne's rise to the second position spread, so did the speculation. Some wondered if Riven's newfound status would lead to conflict with other families, while others saw it as a chance for new growth. As for Barron's family, everyone held their breath, waiting to see what their future would hold.
Vaelorian, who had been watching all of this unfold, felt a deep sense of pride and admiration. The young men he had met just a few months ago, so full of ambition, were now being recognized on a grand scale. They were no longer just boys, but a force in the empire.
"Don't listen to what everyone else is saying, my love. You're going to do so many great things," Vaelorian said, as they walked through the Imperial Palace gardens. He had just returned from visiting his mother, the Empress. "And I'll be right there beside you, every step of the way."
Riven smiled, his eyes gleaming with determination as he ducked under a blooming tree. "I couldn't have done it without you, babe. Thanks for believing in me."
"We're in this together, always," Vaelorian replied, looking at the younger boy with a genuine smile.
"Always sounds like a long time. Does that mean you want to be with me for a long time?" Riven asked with a teasing grin.
"For as long as you'll have me," Vaelorian vowed. He knew the bond between them was stronger than ever, forged in their shared adventures. As they walked, Vaelorian knew their love would endure, no matter what challenges lay ahead. With Riven's house now in the second position, they were a force to be reckoned with. They were a team.
After their long walk through the palace gardens, Vaelorian gently took Riven's hand, guiding him along the polished marble corridors toward his own quarters. Riven's eyes widened as they stepped inside. He had expected something grand, perhaps, something a bit more fancy than their room in camp, something with more practical furnishings. But now, he stood in Vaelorian's quarters—a space that felt less like a room and more like a dream.
The air was different here, not just in temperature but in its very quality; it was rich with the scent of polished wood, fragrant oils, and something else he couldn't quite place, a subtle, sweet perfume that hinted at extravagance. Sunlight poured through a massive, arched window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air like tiny, golden stars. The floor was a mosaic of deep, vibrant stones, so smooth they seemed to hum with coolness beneath his feet.
He took in the grand four-poster bed draped in silks and velvets of royal blue and gold. The furniture wasn't just functional; each piece was a work of art, carved with intricate patterns and inlaid with precious metals. It was a life Riven had only watched in movies, a life far removed from his previous life.
He understood, of course. This opulence was part of Vaelorian's birthright, a symbol of his power and status. His own temporary quarters, which he was supposed to be sharing with Barron, was comfortable, but it paled in comparison. The thought of Barron brought a quiet smile to his face. His friend, no longer bound to a mouse form, was now free to roam the imperial palace with an air of newfound importance, flanked by guards. And Sir Eryndor too, was enjoying a well-deserved break with his family. The imperial palace, for all its formality, had a rhythm of its own, a silent understanding of rest and recovery after the grueling mission.
Riven walked toward the window, his fingers tracing the cold stone sill as he gazed out at the sprawling imperial gardens. He was so lost in thought that he didn't hear Vaelorian's approach until his soft voice broke through his thoughts.
"Here," Vaelorian said, his tone gentle as he held out a small, intricately carved golden box. "This is for you."
Riven had just finished bathing and was dressed in new clothes—soft linen trousers and a loose tunic that felt impossibly light. He turned, a flicker of surprise in his eyes.
"What is this?" he asked, taking the box and examining it.
"It's a gift," Vaelorian replied with a warm smile. "For your birthday."
Riven blinked, processing the words. He thought for a moment, then his eyes widened slightly. His birthday…that had passed not long ago, hadn't it? He had been so caught up in the mission and everything new that he'd completely forgotten.
"But my birthday has passed," Riven said, a slight furrow in his brow.
Vaelorian's smile deepened, and he chuckled softly. "I had the whole thing planned out but—"
"I was away," Riven finished the thought for him, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. "Sorry about that."
Vaelorian nodded, understanding. "No matter. We're together now, we can celebrate your birthday anytime. Do you want to open it?" Vaelorian asked, gesturing to the box.
Riven nodded, a spark of curiosity ignited within him. He walked back to the majestic bed and sat down, carefully pulling open the gold box. But inside, there was nothing but a single, black card. It was thick and smooth, almost silky to the touch, and seemed to absorb the light around it.
"I'm familiar with getting cakes for birthdays, but I have no idea what this is," Riven said, holding up the card.
Vaelorian's quiet chuckle filled the luxurious space. "That's the card of wishes, my love."
"The card of wishes? What's that?" Riven asked, genuinely confused.
"You've never heard of the card of wishes?" Vaelorian asked, his surprise evident.
Riven shook his head. "No. Should I have?"
Vaelorian's expression shifted, he was surprised himself. "It amazes me just how little you know about our traditions sometimes," he said, a hint of fondness in his tone. Then, he reached out and took Riven's hand, gently guiding him to sit closer. "The Card of Wishes is a special relic, forged from the blood of elders long gone. It's not alive, but it holds power to build trust between those who hold it."
Riven's eyes lit up with curiosity. "Trust? So, it's like a promise?"
"Exactly," Vaelorian said softly. "Whatever you ask from me, with this card, I will do my best to make it true. It's a symbol of my sincerity, my commitment to you."
Riven looked at the card again, pondering. "And I can ask for anything?"
"Yes," Vaelorian replied, his voice gentle. "Anything you truly desire. But take your time. Think carefully about what you want most. When you're ready, just tell me."
Riven's lips parted in wonder. "Interesting…"
"Indeed," Vaelorian replied, squeezing his hands gently.
Riven looked down at the card again, feeling a warmth spread through him—a new kind of feeling. His eyelids grew heavy, and a yawn escaped him before he could stop it.
Vaelorian smiled tenderly, gently ruffling Riven's hair. "Rest now, my love. You've been through so much during the mission. You need your strength."
The younger boy nodded softly, curling up against the plush pillows. As sleep claimed him, Vaelorian watched over him, a quiet smile on his lips, knowing that the boy he's in love with was back with him—safe and sound.