Rhyse's mind swiftly pivoted from Lieutenant Borin's situation to the next critical piece of his strategy—maintaining the illusion of dutifully preparing for the Royal Summons while secretly orchestrating his departure to the capital unaccompanied by the Duke. The idea of traveling without House Synkar's official delegation was fraught with peril, yet the alternative—remaining vulnerable within the escort—was an even greater risk in his assessment.
He knew he could only simulate engagement with the Summons preparations for so long before suspicions arose. When the Duke inevitably discovered his absence, he would likely mobilize both his own forces and those of the Hawthornes to locate the missing heir. It would be the perfect opportunity for them to eliminate him permanently under the guise of an unfortunate accident during travels. Even disguising himself and taking the most straightforward merchant's road wouldn't be enough; the network of spies loyal to his uncle would flush him out eventually.
No, he needed a route that would defy all expectations—something so unorthodox that even Valerius, with his cautious counsel, or Marek, with his tactical foresight, wouldn't anticipate. He already knew the Krellian Deeps would be instrumental to his plans, but he also understood he couldn't afford to draw attention prematurely. Finding the right timing involved not just eluding potential assassins but also ensuring his own operatives could move unseen before the net closed around him.
This wasn't just about evasion—it was about controlling the narrative. If he disappeared before the House's enemies realized he was gone, he could maneuver freely, gather intelligence, and strike back from the shadows rather than waiting helplessly for their next attempt on his life. That required paths unknown, routes forgotten, and allies unheard of—everything his adversaries would never think to monitor.
Valerius, although he could be trusted, would never allow him to be that reckless. Rhyse thoughts centered on Livia Hawthorne's clandestine communication with the Valtari Syndicate. He needed to pinpoint the source of that transmission, this so-called "Krellian Channel," and, if possible, intercept the expected "new package" Livia was anticipating. That meant one location was key.
The Krellian Deeps. The name alone carried a weight of illicit activity and forbidden magitech. It was known as a haven for those who operated outside the bounds of established Houses, a sprawling network of caverns and hidden settlements where the Valtari Syndicate maintained a significant presence, and, crucially, a ley-line nexus – the very means by which Livia conducted her treasonous correspondence. It was a strategically risky move to divert from the direct route to the Royal Capital, but Rhyse felt a growing conviction that understanding the nature of this connection was paramount.
The Krellian Deeps, while notorious for its illicit dealings and the Valtari Syndicate's stronghold, also served as a crucial trade nexus for legitimate commerce. House Synkar's archives detailed numerous merchant routes threading through the region's labyrinthine caverns, though most had fallen into disuse over the decades. Among these was a particularly well-documented path—an old supply line established during the family's golden age, linking the Deeps to the northern territories.
Deep within the subterranean network, hidden beneath layers of rock and forgotten by all but the most meticulous cartographers, lay the ruins of a once-thriving Synkar outpost. Its vaulted halls, now choked with dust and the echoes of the past, concealed a strategic passage—a winding tunnel system that emerged near the northern coast. There, beyond the jagged cliffs where the salt-laden winds howled, one could secure passage aboard merchant vessels bound for the Royal Capital with minimal scrutiny.
The route had been deliberately obscured in official records after the Synkar family's partial withdrawal from the region, a contingency measure against potential exploitation by rivals. Yet for those who knew where to look—those with access to the family's most guarded archives—it remained a ghost of a road, a whisper of a path, and perhaps the only viable escape should the need arise.
Rhyse's knowledge of the Krellian Deeps wasn't merely academic—it had been ingrained in him through countless lessons from his late father during those quiet evenings in the family library. Lord Corbin Synkar had spoken of the region with a particular intensity, his voice taking on that rare tone of excitement he reserved for matters of true strategic importance. The elder Synkar had often spread out ancient maps across his study's mahogany desk, tracing the intricate network of subterranean passages with a calloused finger while explaining how the Deeps' unique confluence of ley-lines made it a natural fortress.
These lessons had been more than simple geography lessons—they'd been part of Corbin's grand vision to restore House Synkar's presence in the region, to reclaim what their ancestors had once controlled. Rhyse could still recall the way his father's eyes would light up when describing the potential of those underground passages, how the natural magical currents could be harnessed to power new innovations. The memories came with the scent of aged parchment and the warmth of the fireplace, with his father's strong hand occasionally resting on his shoulder as they pored over tactical diagrams together.
Those cherished moments of instruction had been abruptly cut short by his parents' untimely deaths, leaving Rhyse with only fragments of his father's ambitious plans—and now, standing in the armory preparing to act on that knowledge, he felt the weight of those unfinished lessons more keenly than ever. The Krellian Deeps represented not just a strategic location, but a piece of his father's legacy that he might now be forced to engage with far sooner than anyone had anticipated.
He had to see for himself. He didn't have anyone else to send. Captain Marek was an important piece and a guardian; the moment he was gone he would be vunerable in many sort of ways. Besides, he was currently the highest ranking combat official of the Synkar, at rank 5, and so far a very loyal subject. He couldn't risk him. Master Valerius could get the job done, but he also was also an important piece for the Synkar, so much that Rhyse had allowed him to carry priceless artifacts for defense.
There was no one else close enough for him to trust. While one could be tempted to stay at the Ancestral Manor, the assassins showed he was not safe even there. He had to gamble, with his life on the line.
Rhyse's fingers trembled slightly as he gathered the necessary supplies, the weight of his decision pressing down on him. The dim glow of the armory's enchanted sconces cast flickering shadows across the rows of Synkar-engineered wardstones, their intricate runes pulsing with a faint blue luminescence that made the air hum with restrained power. Rhyse selected a suit of articulated light armor that seemed to blend traditional craftsmanship with subtle magical enhancements. The armor's primary plates were a deep, burnished steel, adorned with intricate etchings that resembled a mix of ornate filigree and cryptic runes. These etchings glowed with a soft, azure light, indicating the presence of magitech reinforcement when hit. The steel plates were articulated with leather straps and silvered joints that allowed for a full range of motion. A small, delicate rune on the armor's chest plate pulsed with a gentle blue light, signifying the armor's power source: a compact, enchanted crystal nestled within the breastplate. As he donned the armor, he felt a slight surge of energy as the crystal attuned to his presence, and the armor's various components hummed softly, ready to respond to his needs.
His fingertips traced the arcane markings on his belt pouches, sensing the quiet vibrations of enchanted compartments unlocking—each revealing their hidden treasures. Vials of shimmering potion, glowing like trapped stars and giving off a hint of moonflower fragrance, rested beside flares promising bursts of spectral brilliance, their charged essence lingering on his palate. A smooth crystal lens completed the set, casting forth a spectral vision of the Krellian Deeps when lifted to his gaze.
Rhyse's arsenal was a diverse and versatile mix of close combat and ranged weapons, each chosen for its unique utility and potential synergy with his lack of magical capabilities. At his side hung a small, intricately designed shield, its surface etched with runes of protection that glowed with a soft, pulsing light when activated. For close quarters, he favored a slender, jewel-encrusted dagger, its blade inscribed with cryptic symbols that shimmered with a malevolent energy, said to enhance its wounding potential. A short sword with a silvered hilt, worn comfortably at his hip, offered a balance between stealth and lethality, while a longer sword, its blade etched with runes of clarity, stood ready against more formidable foes. Additionally, a compact hand crossbow, its wooden stock inlaid with subtle magical enhancements, hung at his back, loaded with quarrels fletched with owl feathers and tipped with silver, designed for silent, precise strikes against enemies from a distance. They were all Synkar Designs, made to be much lighter than the normal weapons, perfect for Rhyse to carry.
To conceal the array of magically enhanced weaponry and the subtle bulge of the Item Box at his belt, Rhyse selected a long, hooded cape lined with shadowweave silk—a rare Hawthorne textile that absorbed light rather than reflecting it. Over this, he fastened a layered manteau crafted from Synkar-engineered dusk-leather, its surface subtly enchanted to distort peripheral perception. The outer garment's reinforced clasps bore discreet shielding runes that masked magical signatures, while its asymmetrical cut allowed for quick access to his concealed arsenal without betraying its presence through motion. Every stitch served dual purposes—elegance and deception—just as his tutors had taught.
Rhyse also chose several different magic tools that could help in surviving the journey and in finding the Valtari Hideout. He stashed them into a rare and expensive type of magical equipment, a magic container called an "Item Box". It was a artifact from his grandfather, and one of the most unique item in the world, with a vast space of carrying capacity. He also wanted to stash gold in it.
The clink of gold coins being counted filled the silence as the strongbox was opened, the metallic scent of wealth mingling with the magical energy in the air. The coins felt heavy in his hands, their weight a tangible reminder of the power they represented. As he ran his fingers through them, the cool metal slipping between his fingers, a notification flickered at the edge of his vision. His heart skipped a beat as he focused on it, the words 'Storage capacity available' glowing faintly.
With a deep breath, he reached out with his will, feeling the strange sensation of the coins dissolving into energy as they were absorbed into the Synkar Core. The rush of power that followed was intoxicating, a heady mix of exhilaration and fear. He could feel the Core responding, its presence in his mind growing stronger, more defined. It was working. It was really working. The realization sent a shiver down his spine, equal parts excitement and trepidation.
He paused, staring at his hands where the coins had been moments before. The implications were staggering. No more cumbersome strongboxes, no more worrying about theft or loss. The Core could hold it all, could keep it safe. He let his thoughts wander about storing the Item Box, and, to his surprise, the Item Box linked itself with the Synkar Core, as if they were partners from the beginning.
The realization that everything within the Item Box could be retrieved directly from the Synkar Core sent a shiver down Rhyse's spine. It was a startling convenience, a near-magical accessibility that dwarfed the old methods of secure storage. His thoughts drifted to the other Synkar storages – the heavily warded vaults beneath the manor, the remote repositories scattered across their holdings. Could they, too, be accessed through the Core? The possibility was both exhilarating and unsettling.
He attempted to extend the connection, directing his will towards the mental map of secure locations he had inherited with his title, hoping to draw their contents into the System. But the Core responded with a curt, unyielding message that flared across his vision: [System Tier Too Low]. An automated restriction, cold and absolute. Whatever security protocols or inherent limitations were at play, the System wasn't yet capable of integrating with the larger, more established Synkar storage network. The Core, for all its growing power, was still a fledgling entity, constrained by the boundaries of its current development. He felt a frustrating ripple of impatience; a stirring of the ambition that was beginning to define him. He wouldn't be limited. He would find a way to unlock those resources, to truly harness the full potential of his family's legacy.
Shaking his head, he pushed the doubts aside. There was no time for hesitation now. The path was set, and he would see it through to the end. With renewed determination, he turned back to the remaining supplies, his movements more confident now.
Finally, he decided on a lean traveling party: Vance, his direct bodyguard and main force of combat, and the two Core Guard veterans – Petra Flint and Torvin Bellweather – who had proven their loyalty during the recent assassination attempt. He would leave Lyra to continue her observation of Livia and possibly intercept important communication, and Thorne, in addition to assisting Valerius with technical matters, would also help maintain the illusion of Rhyse being preoccupied within the manor's study, lulling any potential observers into a false sense of security, while simultaneously allowing Valerius to concentrate his efforts on understanding the broader implications of Livia's actions.
It was a calculated risk, relying on the assumption that those who sought to undermine House Synkar would underestimate a thirteen-year-old boy seemingly engrossed in courtly obligations. But Rhyse was no longer merely a boy. He was a fledgling power, fueled by ingenuity, and armed with a System that was rapidly becoming his greatest asset.
Rhyse sent summons to Lyra, Thorne, Vance, Petra, and Torvin, instructing them to meet him in his study. The summons were phrased as requests for a briefing on perimeter security, maintaining the facade that his attention remained fixated on the manor's defenses.
When they arrived, their expressions were carefully neutral, honed by years of service to House Synkar. Vance, Lyra and Thorne offered a slight inclination of their head, Petra and Torvin stood at rigid attention, their hands resting near the hilts of their weapons.
Rhyse met their gazes, acknowledging the ingrained suspicion they undoubtedly harbored towards his sudden shift in focus. "From this moment on, I'm going to sneak out with Vance, Flint and Bellweather. We are going to the Royal Court on our own," he stated, the words deliberately devoid of explanation. He didn't want to give too much information since he was still building trust with the others. A flicker of surprise, quickly masked, crossed Vance's face. Petra and Torvin exchanged a glance, their professional discipline preventing any outward demonstration of astonishment.
"As you command, my lord," Vance responded, his voice a low rumble. Petra echoed the sentiment with a terse nod. Rhyse continued, laying out the barest of instructions. "I will leave Master Valerius instructions to maintain the pretense of my continued confinement to the study for as long as possible. Discretion is paramount. We travel under assumed identities, minimal escort, and with no outward display of House Synkar's authority." He paused, his gaze sweeping over their faces, ensuring comprehension.
He knew Valerius would execute the deception flawlessly, expertly weaving a narrative of scholarly dedication to keep any prying eyes away from the truth, "Lyra, you will stay and keep monitoring Livia. We need any information on her contacts to pinpoint the source. Disrupt her whenever you can. Just don't get caught. You can act as needed and request anything from Master Valerius. Thorne, you are also to keep your duties and pretend you are going about following my direct orders."
"My lord," Lyra murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, yet laced with a resolute undertone, "I'll maintain surveillance on Livia, monitoring her communications and movements closely. If the opportunity arises, I'll disrupt her plans without leaving a trail. You can count on me to keep you informed through Master Valerius." Her gaze flickered with a hint of determination, a silent promise to uncover the extent of Livia's involvement with the Valtari Syndicate.
Thorne, his rugged features set in a stoic mask, nodded curtly. "As you've ordered, my lord. I'll continue with my duties, ensuring that my actions appear to be in line with your direct instructions. If I notice anything unusual or pertinent to our mission, I'll report back through the designated channels. You can rely on my discretion and vigilance." His eyes, though expressionless, held a deep-seated loyalty, a small sign of the bond he had begun to form with Rhyse and the Synkar legacy.
Rhyse nodded and led Vance, Flint, and Bellweather through a hidden passageway within the study. As they traversed the shadowed passageways, Rhyse felt a surge of grim determination. He would no longer be a passive observer, confined within the manor walls. The Krellian Deeps awaited, and with it, a confrontation with the forces threatening to dismantle everything he held dear.
The chill of the ancient stone seeped through Rhyse's boots as they descended deeper into the manor's underbelly, the air thickening with the scent of dust and forgotten years.
The passageways snaked between long-forgotten Synkar vaults and storage chambers, spaces even Master Valerius hadn't access to—remnants of a bygone era, sealed off and deliberately obscured from most of the household. Few within the manor ever even knew of their existence, let alone possessed the clearance to traverse them. The old pathways were secured with layers of intricate wards, humming faintly with latent energy, and patrolled by silent, obsidian magitech golems, their rune-etched surfaces gleaming in the dim light. A labyrinthine network of corridors branched off in all directions, Theron Synkar's own blend of defenses and secretive preparations.
Rhyse led the small group along one particular branch, heading north, further away from the heart of the Ancestral Manor and towards a concealed exit. The stone walls, slick with unseen moisture, bore the faint etchings of archaic runes – wards against intrusion, safeguards against tampering, remnants of long-dormant spells. Each turn brought them deeper into the earth, a feeling of isolation settling upon them as the weight of the manor above grew more distant.
They arrived at a hidden bay where a remarkably efficient transport system awaited – a series of interconnected railcars powered by intricate Synkar magitech. The vehicles, constructed of polished steel and reinforced alloys, stood ready to convey them across considerable distances through a network of dedicated, subterranean tunnels bored deep beneath the family lands. These weren't mere shortcuts, but a private thoroughfare, a testament to Theron Synkar's foresight and a privilege reserved for only the most sensitive Synkar movements. The system allowed for traversing significant ground in remarkably little time, bypassing the winding roads and watchful eyes of potential rivals. A low hum of contained arcane energy emanated from the arcane railcars, a subtle reassurance of their speed and security.
They reached the end of the of the line. Finally, the passageway opened into a small, unassuming chamber, revealing a reinforced iron gate framed by glowing arcane symbols. Beyond lay the windswept moorland, the start of their journey toward the Krellian Deeps.