Claude looked around the room. The stern faces of the nobles said enough. Their expressions were set like stone, serious and cold, a clear sign of just how important this was to them. If it had only been Elyas, a baron's son living dangerously close to the outskirts, they might have written it off as an unfortunate, isolated event. But throw Enya into the mix, and suddenly it was no longer an unfortunate incident. It was a catastrophe. Not only was she the daughter of a count, but her estate was far to the south, miles away from the borders of the lawless region. That detail alone shifted the atmosphere into one of tense, unspoken panic.
"Shouldn't we send some spies? It would be much better to extract information like that, instead of getting information from children."
A Viscount offered the suggestion with casual confidence. It was a logical strategy, even admirable in theory. But Claude knew immediately that the man had misunderstood the duchess's intention. She wasn't questioning them simply to gather intelligence about the kidnappings. There was something deeper behind her line of inquiry. She wanted insight into what the children had experienced.
Which made Claude wonder just how easy it would be to feed them lies. False information, elegantly shaped, could lead every noble in this room into a trap of their own making. He could send them all spiraling into a disaster that not even their titles could protect them from.
Claude didn't know much about the Black Vine. But he knew enough to respect their reach. They weren't just another group of bandits or rogue merchants. They had power. Real power.
Still, Claude didn't think for a moment that the slavers had anything strong enough to defend against this many nobles. No amount of numbers or secrecy could hold up in the face of an army backed by wealth, land, and centuries of dominance.
Especially not against that creature. That strange, dragon-bird thing. Its presence alone had shaken the prison, its eyes colder than death and more intelligent than any beast should be.
'Bet that thing could level the outskirts without breaking a sweat.'
But of course, they wouldn't take the simple route. They never did. The easy solution was also the most destructive one, and no noble with half a brain would take it seriously without considering the consequences.
It wasn't just about killing off a few bandits. That course of action would mean leveling entire districts. Hundreds of thousands of innocents lived in the outskirts, people already hanging by a thread. Even if the kingdom could somehow evacuate every last one of them, destroying the outskirts would rip a hole in the kingdom's infrastructure that no army could patch.
The outskirts, despite their ugliness, were essential. A brutal resource hub and labor pool rolled into one. Rows of smog-choked factories stood like tombs belching out smoke, powered by desperation. And behind each building were countless desperate souls willing to break themselves for a loaf of bread.
Razing it all to the ground would do more than remove a stain. It would tear open a wound so deep that it might invite something far worse. The kingdom's borders would bleed, and nothing would stop the outside world from pushing in while the north reeled from its own decision.
Claude imagined the duchess already had plans to inform the king. This wouldn't remain a regional concern for long. The rot had spread too far, and soon enough, it would reach the capital. It always did.
Of course, Claude didn't pretend to understand politics. Not truly. He had no formal education in diplomacy or governance. He was just making guesses based on what seemed logical. What the nobles would do… or fail to do.
He looked back toward the other children in the room. All of them stood quietly, unmoved, their expressions calm. None of them looked afraid.
It surprised Claude.
He had expected at least a hint of fear, some subtle twitch of anxiety, a moment of nervous glancing toward the doors. But instead, they stood there, serene, as if nothing had changed.
'Don't tell me they think no one can touch them as long as they're careful. How foolish.'
Claude scoffed to himself, disgust rising in his throat like bile.
Claude scoffed inwardly, suppressing a sneer.
'If you think being vigilant and strong is enough, then you already lost. The people who hunted us don't care about how alert you are. They come from places where vigilance is survival, where even the strong get dragged down eventually.'
He glanced at them once more, this time with the faintest curl of a bitter smile
They were polished and well-fed, wrapped in silk and pride. They believed their names would protect them. That their parents could summon armies at a moment's notice.
He nearly laughed.
'How stupid they are. They believe their families can protect them from anything. As if bloodlines can stop the shadows from reaching them. But who can blame them for having such a naive view of the world? If you grow up wrapped in silk and comfort, you start believing comfort is permanent. You believe happiness is the default state of the world. But what actually lasts… is misery.'
That, at least, was how Claude saw the world. It was his truth, carved from years of suffering. Nothing in his life had ever been soft or fair. So who could fault him for looking through a cracked lens?
---
After the meeting ended and the children were dismissed, the ball resumed without missing a beat. The tension dissolved like sugar in warm wine. The music started again, the hall filled with light, and once more, nobles swayed beneath the chandeliers.
Claude found himself standing alone at the edge of the ballroom, watching the couples. Men and women twirled together in harmony, laughing and smiling beneath the golden light. They looked stupid to him. Blissfully, infuriatingly stupid.
He saw familiar faces among them. Nobles who had just minutes ago been seated around the long table, speaking in grim tones and arguing over military decisions, were now dancing as if nothing mattered. Their polished shoes swept over marble, their hands rested on each other's waists, their laughter barely drowned out by the music.
He didn't understand it.
'How utterly stupid. Instead of fixing their problems, they're dancing. How can someone carry a burden like that and still go waltzing around like a fool? Is their sense of responsibility that fragile?'
His eyes swept across the crowd. Dorian was dancing with a blonde girl, his movements smooth and rehearsed. They looked like they knew each other. Claude's gaze shifted again. On the opposite side of the ballroom, Leonis was dancing with Marina. That surprised him slightly. They hadn't seemed particularly close.
And then, near the center of the floor, he spotted Enya. She was dancing with a boy Claude didn't recognize. Emrys was nearby, standing uncomfortably close to the couple. His eyes burned into the boy's back with a silent fury, his presence like a storm cloud hovering over the pair.
Elsewhere, Bramric sat alone, towering and hunched like some ancient, brooding statue carved from the walls of a forgotten temple. Sylvaine sat near one of the tall arched windows, her gaze lost somewhere in the night sky beyond the glass.
Claude looked around, scanning the crowd, but couldn't find Sylvia anywhere.
Until he turned to head back to the table reserved for the children.
She was standing right behind him.
Claude blinked. Her posture was stiff, awkward in its intentionality. Hands clasped behind her back, feet together, chin slightly tilted as she looked up at him.
She was waiting.
Waiting for something.
'Don't tell me… is she expecting me to ask her to dance? Because if that's what she's after, then she's out of her mind. I'd rather throw myself off a tower than ask her that.'
That was what Claude thought, teeth grinding as he tried to muster the will to ignore her.
Instead, without fully knowing why, he reached out his hand. A shallow smile curved his lips, just enough to be polite.
"Will you dance with me?"