The imperial palace, a few days later.
The celebration of the Ascension of Flame had been long announced. The date of the festival approached rapidly. It was now only two days before the day of the main ritual, and the entire empire had already begun the festivities. Streets were draped in gold and crimson banners, market squares overflowed, shops and fairs and plays springing up everywhere. Even the palace seemed dressed up — the usual ornaments had been replaced, and the only colors in sight were those of the sun god.
It was the morning of that day. Elliott sat in his study, buried in the never-ending pile of paperwork. He'd momentarily zoned out over a particularly bland document, his gaze drifting toward the windows.
They overlooked the gardens, and beyond that, the palace boundary — his study sat at the corner of the statutory affairs building. From there, he could see the capital's streets, and they looked magnificent. People milled in and out, and it felt like the whole city was alive with celebration.
As Elliott stared at the streets, a memory rose unbidden.
Years ago, when he had only recently adopted Aiden, there had been another festival — a lesser one, a yearly celebration of the summer solstice. It had been grand in its own right, but still just a yearly affair compared to the Ascension, which happened once every two decades and was naturally far grander.
Aiden had been wide-eyed; it was the first festival he'd ever witnessed in the capital. His whole life before that, he'd been raised by servants in a remote estate. After the daytime rituals, in the evening, when they'd finally had a moment alone, the boy had tugged on Elliott's sleeve with hopeful eyes.
"Can we go?" he'd asked.
Elliott hadn't needed to ask where — he'd seen the boy looking out from the palace windows at the celebrations and fireworks. But at the time, it hadn't been possible. Elliott had been drowning in council meetings, petitions, the weight of the crown. It hadn't even been a year since he'd taken the throne. He hadn't had the time. And, truth be told, he'd been afraid — emperor or not, he was still only seventeen, raised inside palace walls, and had never gone out to mingle with the crowd.
So, he'd had to refuse, citing all the things going on.
Aiden had understood, of course — the boy was nothing if not understanding. But the way his hopeful, trusting expression had dimmed... it had cracked something inside Elliott.
Even as Aiden reassured him it was fine, Elliott had knelt down, brushed the boy's hair back, and said, "Let me elaborate. I meant — we can't go to this one. But I promise — when the Ascension of Flame comes, the grandest celebration of all, much better than this one — I'll take you. For sure. Just you and me. No duties, no guards. Just us."
Aiden had beamed... then frowned slightly. "But... won't we get recognised?"
Elliott had thought for a moment. "We'll wear... disguises. Like spies."
The boy's grin had widened, like Elliott had just handed him the stars.
Elliott remembered that smile perfectly. He could see it even now as the memory surfaced. And now, after years, the time to keep that promise had finally come.
An aide, Lady Vanessa, working quietly at the side, noticed the emperor's gaze shift in her direction. "Did you need something, Your Majesty?" she asked.
Elliott blinked. He hadn't really been staring at her, just vaguely in her direction while lost in thought. He was about to say no — and then it clicked.
They wouldn't be able to go out on the day of the festival; they'd be required at the temple. The day before would be swallowed up by preparations.
Today... today was perfect. The festivities were in full swing, and they could slip away for a few hours.
He asked the aide, "Do you know where Aiden is?"
"I can't say for sure, Your Majesty... but I believe he's in the war room."
"Still?" Elliott frowned. There had been a meeting there in the morning, but it had long since ended. "Who's with him?"
"I believe he's alone, Your Majesty."
Elliott sighed. He could have asked what Aiden was doing in there alone — but he already knew the answer, didn't he? The boy had looked tense this morning. If he was still in the war room, it meant only one thing: he was obsessing over something.
And a stressed Aiden always overthought everything.
If anything, this only solidified Elliott's plan. Aiden needed a break.
Elliott rose from his seat. He walked to the door — then paused, turning back. "One more thing, Lady Vanessa. Please notify the attendants to fetch me two cloaks — one my size, and one larger, Aiden's height. And a set of plain clothes in both our sizes."
Vanessa blinked, a little confused. But she was new, and didn't dare question the emperor — though, had she asked, Elliott would have calmly answered. Instead, she only nodded. "I will see that it's done."
"Thank you."
And with that, Elliott left the study.
----
Elliott soon found the war room.
The door was slightly ajar — inside, the space was silent, save for the faint rustle of parchment. It was empty, except for one figure.
Aiden.
He stood hunched over the table, shoulders drawn tight, eyes fixed on the maps spread across the surface. His fingers traced the Altherian border with a sort of grim precision — one might even call it obsessive. The path he followed again and again carved invisible grooves in the paper, his movements taut and mechanical, like he was walking the route in his mind over and over.
Elliott lingered in the doorway for a moment, just watching him. The sharp lines of concentration on Aiden's face, the faint crease between his brows, the slight downturn of his lips — all of it spoke of a mind spiraling. He didn't announce his presence, but with how sharp Aiden's instincts were — honed from years of training — Elliott was certain he already knew he was there.
"You're spiraling," Elliott observed.
"I'm not," Aiden replied quietly, still not looking up.
Elliott didn't believe that for a second. He stepped closer, leaning just enough to glance at the map. "That's the third time since I've been standing here that you've traced that same route. You're going to wear a hole through the map."
Aiden let out a huff of annoyance — not denial, just a muted acknowledgment that the older man was right. "Why are you here?"
"You're changing the topic," Elliott said flatly.
"And you're too observant," Aiden muttered.
Elliott smirked. "Guilty as charged."
Finally, Aiden looked up. His eyes were shadowed, his shoulders slouched in a way that betrayed exhaustion more than anything else. The meeting earlier that morning was clearly still weighing on him. Elliott felt an unexpected pang in his chest — he hated seeing him like this.
Before Aiden could ask again, Elliott cut in, "I came to tell you — we're going out."
That got Aiden's attention. His gaze sharpened, narrowing — not in malice, but in skepticism. "Out where, exactly?"
Elliott's mouth curled into that grin. The smug, up-to-no-good, I'm-about-to-do-something-that-will-ruin-your-afternoon grin.
Aiden recognized it instantly, and dread flickered in his eyes. This was the grin that usually heralded his personal downfall — and by "downfall," he meant some ridiculous scheme that ended with his sanity in tatters.
"The festival," Elliott finally declared, after pausing just long enough to let the suspense stew. "We're going sightseeing. Incognito."
Aiden stared at him. "You mean to say... Two days before the Ascension, when the streets are packed, you want to sneak out of the palace. One question. Why."
Elliott sighed like Aiden was being deliberately dense. "You really don't know?"
"That's what people usually mean when they ask a question, yes," Aiden said dryly.
Elliott shot him a mock glare, though there was no heat behind it. "Don't be cheeky with me. You've forgotten. Let me remind you — thirteen years ago. Summer solstice. You wanted to go out, I was busy, I made a promise. Ringing any bells?"
Aiden's brow furrowed. He stared at Elliott, and the memory surfaced — hazy but real. He had forgotten it, buried under years of growing up, political chaos, and the constant churn of crises. Poisonings. Traps. War. Who could be expected to remember what was, in hindsight, a childish whim?
He'd forgotten. But Elliott hadn't.
Outwardly, he only exhaled sharply. "That was years ago. I was a child."
"I hope you realize that's not actually a counterargument."
Aiden groaned. "Elliott. You know what I mean. I was a child, I was stupid — I know it's not wise now. Especially now. We're on the brink of war. Cyrus probably has spies crawling through the empire. We can't just... wander into a crowd like it's a palace garden."
Elliott understood that. He really did. But he only shrugged. "Why not? It's our capital. Ours. If we're not safe here, we're not safe anywhere—"
"That's not what I mean, Elliott. And I know you know that."
"Ah ah — wait. I wasn't finished." He leaned forward slightly, grin still firmly in place. "We'll be in disguises. It's not like this is some big, premeditated operation. No one knows, no one will know. Cloaks, plain clothes. We'll blend in with the crowds. Even if Cyrus has spies, they'd never expect us to be there. The absurdity will be our cover."
He could see Aiden's resolve wavering. Time to press the advantage.
"You can even have some of the knights follow at a distance if you want to feel safer. Bring your dagger for extra security."
Aiden's jaw tightened, but Elliott could tell he was out of arguments. "...I always have my dagger," he muttered.
"Perfect," Elliott said brightly, already clapping his hands together and steering him toward the door. "It's settled. I'm taking you on an adventure."
"This is a bad idea," Aiden sighed, though the annoyance in his tone was more for show than genuine protest.
"You'll be eating those words in a few hours," Elliott said smugly.