The morning sun slanted through the stained-glass windows of the Grand Hall, painting fractured colors across the marble floors. King Leopold had sent most courtiers away, leaving only his ministers and his ten-year-old heir.
Prince Arnault stood at the edge of the dais, hands tight at his sides, while Marquess Elias lingered close, a steady presence amidst the tension.
"Your studies begin in earnest today," Elias said, voice calm but firm. "History, diplomacy, law, and warfare — each will shape you into the ruler Helvareth needs. Ignore even one, and the kingdom suffers."
Arnault nodded, though his gaze drifted toward the distant figures of his siblings. Since their mother's death, a subtle distance had grown between him and Arthur and Anastasia. The three were no longer united; the crown, the court, and circumstance had begun carving invisible gaps.
Duke Alaric stepped forward, smooth and deliberate. "Young prince, may I offer guidance? Strength is vital, yes, but influence, perception, and subtlety are equally crucial. A king must bend minds, not merely wield armies."
Arnault's lips pressed into a firm line. "I will learn from the Marquess. Helvareth requires wisdom, not flattery. I am here to serve the kingdom, not court men seeking advantage."
Alaric's expression flickered, irritation barely concealed. "Bold words for one so young. Confidence is admirable… but perhaps misplaced."
Leopold's gaze weighed them both, silent, assessing his son's resolve. The boy's sharpness and composure pleased him, but he knew that power carried a cost.
Meanwhile, the streets of Helvareth stirred with a different rhythm. Raven crouched behind the counter of The Drunken Hawk, watching Uncle Gavran polish a scuffed wooden barrel.
"Patience, Shadow Girl," Gavran murmured. "A thief who acts without caution is already dead. Learn control, and the streets will bend to you."
Raven wiped the barrel carefully. She had begun taking more responsibility: training younger orphans, negotiating with smugglers, and managing the network of eyes and ears Gavran trusted.
"Raven, you've become serious about this," Liora called from the corner, a sly grin tugging at her lips. "Gavran's counting on you, you know."
"I know," Raven said quietly. "I won't let him down. His lessons won't vanish with him."
Gavran's voice rumbled behind her. "Remember — cleverness, speed, and steadiness. One day, this tavern and all who depend on it will belong to you. Never forget that."
Raven's lips curved into a determined smile. Her future was no longer distant; it pressed against her like the weight of the crown on Arnault's head, though she would rise in the shadows, unseen yet formidable.
Back in the royal halls, Arnault's lessons pressed on. Under Elias's guidance, he studied maps, practiced diplomacy, and trained with the royal guard. Elias's calm presence was a tether, a stabilizing force amidst a court still reeling from grief and intrigue.
"Strategy is never brute force alone," Elias explained one afternoon, moving Arnault's hand across a map. "Every kingdom has threads — alliances, debts, ambitions. You must see all and act only where necessary. Anger never serves a king well."
"I've seen what anger can do," Arnault replied, eyes sharp. "I won't let Helvareth suffer because of it."
Duke Alaric lingered, attempting subtle manipulation, but Arnault remained unshaken. The boy's loyalty was to the lessons of the Marquess, not to flattery or fear.
Even as his training progressed, Arnault felt the quiet distance from his siblings, a melancholy that had no explanation yet weighed heavily. Their paths were diverging, the invisible threads of family fraying with each passing day.
In the streets, Raven's rise mirrored the prince's path in shadowed reflection. Every choice, every lesson, every small victory sharpened her instincts.
"The city watches," Gavran said one evening. "Every alley has eyes, every hand has intent. Survive, Shadow Girl, and you will inherit more than a tavern. You will inherit a power the nobles cannot touch."
Raven nodded. "Then I will be ready, Uncle. Ready for anything."
Night fell over Helvareth. Two futures moved forward, each shaped by survival, discipline, and unseen forces. One, a boy heir, learned the burdens of the crown and the kingdom. The other, a girl of shadows, rose to command the streets' hidden threads.
Their paths had yet to cross, but fate was already drawing them toward a destiny that would bind them — and change the kingdom forever.