The dawn in the Capitol broke over marble and gold, but for Princess Serenya it felt like a warning more than a blessing. The court's morning session had already begun in the Hall of Stature, where the noble houses gathered to hear reports from the outer provinces. Serenya sat upon the dais reserved for the royal heirs, her posture flawless, her gaze fixed on the speaker, though her mind worked on another track entirely. The name she had heard whispered in council chambers and guard reports had lodged in her thoughts like a seed. The Seeker. The Abandoned Dark Prodigy. A figure her advisors insisted was dangerous, yet somehow she could not dismiss him as merely an enemy.
The hall was crowded today. House Eldrin's envoy was presenting the situation on the frontier, speaking in grave tones about the destruction left in the wake of Kaelen's last confrontation. The words were chosen carefully, framed to instill fear and a call to arms. Serenya noted the way the older lords leaned in, their eyes narrowing, their voices murmuring about mobilization. Yet beneath their bluster she sensed something else. Doubt. They feared him, but they also respected the sheer force of what he had achieved. And fear mixed with respect was fertile ground for dangerous change.
Her father, the High King, listened with the patience of a man who had weathered many threats in his reign. His face betrayed nothing, though Serenya knew him well enough to see the tightness in his jaw. He despised unpredictability. Kaelen was nothing if not unpredictable. But Serenya could not help but think that unpredictability might be exactly what this stagnant kingdom needed.
When the envoy concluded his report, the chamber erupted into debate. Some called for immediate deployment of the King's Guard to hunt Kaelen down. Others urged for fortified defenses on the provincial borders. A rare few suggested a truce, an attempt to turn the Seeker's strength against the Kingdom's other enemies. Serenya noted each speaker, marking where loyalties fell and which houses might bend if pressed. She was not yet Queen, but she had long learned the value of silent observation. A ruler needed to know who might betray them and who might be convinced to fight for them.
Her younger brother, Prince Ilandor, leaned toward her, whispering behind a hand. "You are studying him too closely. The council would think you are fascinated."
Serenya did not look at him. "Perhaps I am," she murmured. "Is it so strange to take interest in the only person in years to shake the foundations of our power?"
Ilandor's frown deepened, but he fell silent. He was too cautious to voice his concerns openly in the hall.
As the debate wore on, Serenya found her thoughts drifting to the few concrete details she had managed to gather. Kaelen's tactics during the last battle were not the brute force of a reckless destroyer but the precision of someone who understood the art of war at its core. He struck where his opponents were weakest, withdrew before being pinned, and left them chasing shadows. This was not the work of a madman or a desperate outlaw. This was someone who thought three moves ahead, someone who could dismantle the Kingdom's greatest armies if given time.
The council adjourned at midday, and Serenya made her way from the Hall to her private chambers, trailed by her personal guard. The sun through the arched windows cast patterns across the polished floors, but her thoughts were still clouded. She needed more than scraps of information. She needed to understand the man himself. Why he fought, why he had turned his back on the Kingdom, and why his name seemed to carry both dread and fascination wherever it was spoken.
Once in her chambers, she dismissed her attendants and went to the writing desk by the window. She drew a piece of parchment and began drafting a request for intelligence directly to the Royal Spymaster. She chose her words with care, framing the request as a strategic necessity rather than personal interest. She wanted detailed reports on Kaelen's movements, his associates, and—if possible—accounts of anyone who had spoken to him since his emergence. Information was power, and she intended to hold more of it than anyone else in this court.
That afternoon, she attended a smaller council session in the Solar Room, reserved for matters of succession and royal policy. Here, the discussion turned more pointed. The King's health had been a matter of quiet speculation for months, and while he still ruled with authority, the question of his successor had begun to surface in private whispers. Serenya knew she was one of the foremost candidates. Her political acumen and measured temperament made her appealing to the more moderate houses. But she also knew that the succession would not be decided on skill alone. It would be decided on power—real, tangible power that could be seen and felt.
And perhaps, she thought, the Seeker could be a path to that power.
As the meeting wore on, she listened to House Calveth's proposal for increased taxation in the outer provinces to fund additional troops. The measure was predictably unpopular with representatives of the frontier, but the moderates seemed swayed by the argument of necessity. Serenya gave no opinion, though she noted the shift in the room. Every new tax, every unpopular decree, widened the rift between the Capitol and the borders. Kaelen had already exploited that rift once. He would no doubt do so again.
That evening, as the sky darkened over the Capitol, Serenya found herself alone on the balcony overlooking the gardens. The air was cool, carrying the scent of the roses that lined the walkways below. She wondered where Kaelen was at this moment. Was he planning his next strike? Was he nursing the wounds from his last battle? Or was he already weaving threads of influence in places the Kingdom had not yet realized were vulnerable?
She did not fear him in the way the others did. Yes, he was dangerous, but danger was only a threat if it was left uncontrolled. Harnessed, it could be the most potent weapon a ruler could wield. The court saw him as a problem to be eradicated. She was beginning to see him as a force to be directed.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock at her chamber door. It was her attendant, bringing a sealed message marked with the sigil of the Spymaster. Serenya broke the seal and scanned the contents. The report was brief but revealing. Kaelen had been sighted near the Riverhold province, moving with a small, disciplined force. The locals were not only aiding him but openly defying royal patrols in his favor. There were even rumors that certain minor lords had begun sending resources his way in secret.
Serenya folded the parchment slowly, her mind already working through the implications. If Kaelen could command loyalty in the provinces, then his reach was greater than the court realized. And if she could establish a channel to him before the others moved against him, she might have a bargaining chip unlike any other in the coming struggle for the throne.
The sound of laughter from the lower gardens drifted up to her balcony. She glanced down to see the other heirs and courtiers enjoying the evening, their worries dulled by wine and comfort. They were blind to the storm building beyond the Capitol's walls. But Serenya was not. She could see the currents shifting, and she intended to ride them before they consumed the Kingdom entirely.
Her decision was made. She would not wait for Kaelen to come to the Capitol as an enemy. She would find a way to reach him first, to understand him, to decide for herself whether he would be a threat to crush or an ally to cultivate. And if the others in the court questioned her interest, she would remind them that a future Queen did not fear power—she claimed it.