The sky above the Capitol was a vast curtain of storm clouds, heavy and bruised, rolling in from the northern horizon as if the heavens themselves understood the tension building in the city below. The great marble avenues were unnaturally quiet, the usual market noise dulled to whispers, and every alley and courtyard seemed to carry the weight of anticipation. The Seeker's name was now spoken in cautious tones, drifting through the noble districts and servant quarters alike. The Palace Guard doubled its patrols, their polished armor glinting faintly in the dim light, and every citizen seemed to feel the silent approach of something they could not yet see.
Inside the High Council Hall, Princess Serenya stood at the far window of the eastern balcony, her gloved hands resting lightly on the cold stone. From here she could see the white pillars that marked the royal promenade, each one bearing the crimson banners of the realm, but her gaze was fixed on the hazy outline of the northern gates. She had spent hours here over the past week, drawn to the distant road that wound toward the frontlines, the same road along which word of the Abandoned Dark Prodigy had arrived. The official reports called him Kaelen, but she preferred the name that had spread among the commonfolk: the Seeker. It was raw, unadorned, and carried with it an implication of intent that she found deeply unsettling.
Behind her, the chamber was alive with restrained argument. The nobles in attendance had divided into two camps, those who saw the Seeker as a threat to be crushed at all costs, and those who whispered about his potential use as a weapon or deterrent against foreign rivals. The tension was palpable. Councilor Deren, a tall, hawk-eyed man in emerald robes, leaned forward over the polished table. "Every day we hesitate, he gains strength. His defeat of the Elite Strike unit cannot be ignored. We should commit the Royal Vanguard before the week ends." His voice carried a note of impatience, the kind that usually meant he had already secured military backing for his proposal.
Across the table, Lady Virelle tilted her head slightly, her black hair falling in a sheet over her shoulder. "Commit the Vanguard to what, exactly? We do not yet know his motives. For all we know, he seeks not to overthrow the crown but to eliminate mutual enemies. Driving him into a corner could make him far more dangerous."
The King's Chancellor, an elderly man named Orrin, cleared his throat. "We must also remember that the Seeker's rise has stirred certain factions within our borders. To strike too soon might encourage rebellion among those who already see the crown as stagnant." His pale eyes flicked toward Serenya for the briefest moment, as though weighing whether she might have an opinion worth voicing.
She did, though she chose not to offer it yet. For now, she preferred to listen, to let their words coil and twist until she could see the threads clearly. The Seeker had been painted in a dozen conflicting colors in the reports: a warlord, a savior, a heretic, a visionary. It was rare for anyone in the Capitol to inspire such uncertainty. Most threats could be neatly categorized and dealt with through force or diplomacy. But Kaelen… Kaelen was something else entirely. He had moved with the precision of a man executing a plan years in the making, and Serenya suspected that this plan was far from complete.
The storm outside broke suddenly, rain sweeping across the balcony in a thin mist. Serenya stepped back into the chamber, her boots clicking softly on the marble. She noticed a messenger entering the hall, water dripping from his cloak. He carried a sealed satchel, which he presented to the Chancellor with a bow. The man broke the seal quickly, scanning the parchment inside. His brow furrowed as he read, and the hall grew quieter, the low voices fading into silence.
"This is from our northern scouts," Orrin said finally. "The Seeker has taken control of the Emberford crossing. He routed a garrison of two hundred in less than an hour. Casualties on our side were minimal, but every survivor reports the same detail. He let them leave."
The statement landed heavily in the room. Deren frowned deeply. "Why would he allow the garrison to retreat? That is not the action of someone seeking to carve out territory."
Lady Virelle's lips curved slightly. "Perhaps he wishes them to carry his message. Fear spreads faster through living tongues than carved gravestones."
Serenya folded her arms, thinking. Letting the garrison go was not mercy, at least not in the way these nobles defined it. It was strategy. It meant Kaelen understood the value of perception, and that meant he was thinking not only about battles but about how those battles would be remembered. He was seeding his legend as carefully as a gardener planting the first shoots of a future forest.
The council erupted into fresh argument, voices overlapping as the storm outside pounded harder against the walls. Serenya let the noise wash over her as she studied the maps laid out across the central table. The Emberford crossing was a critical supply route, but more importantly, it was a symbolic threshold between the outer territories and the heartlands. For him to take it without slaughter was as much a declaration as it was a conquest.
When the meeting finally adjourned, Serenya did not return to her quarters. Instead, she made her way through the palace to the archives, a vast and dimly lit chamber lined with shelves of parchment scrolls and leather-bound tomes. The royal historian, Master Kellin, was there, his thin frame hunched over a desk. He looked up in surprise as she approached.
"Your Highness," he said, standing quickly. "What brings you here?"
"I want everything we have on the northern front, specifically any records of individuals who rose to prominence outside the control of the crown. Bandit kings, mercenary captains, sorcerers. And I want to see the most recent reports on the Seeker."
Kellin's eyes flickered with curiosity, but he nodded and began pulling scrolls from the shelves. "It will take some time to compile them all."
"I will wait," Serenya said simply.
As the hours passed, she read through accounts of past insurgents, rebellions, and legends. Patterns began to emerge. The most dangerous figures were never those who relied solely on brute force. They were the ones who could inspire, who could turn loyalty into a weapon sharper than steel. Kaelen's actions fit this mold perfectly. The more she read, the more her curiosity deepened into something sharper, something close to fascination. She began to imagine the shape of a man who could fight like a warrior, think like a strategist, and move like a ghost across the map of the realm.
By the time she left the archives, the storm had passed, leaving the streets below glistening under the moonlight. She paused at another balcony overlooking the city, her thoughts turning over like pieces on a game board. She did not yet know if the Seeker would prove to be a threat or an ally, but she knew one thing with certainty. She wanted to see him for herself, not through the filter of frightened soldiers or ambitious nobles.
The next morning, she sent a discreet message to her most trusted retainer, Captain Rhian. The note was simple, containing only a handful of words: "Prepare a discreet entourage. We are traveling north."
Far from the Capitol, Kaelen stood on the banks of the Emberford crossing, watching the river churn beneath the repaired bridge. He knew the garrison's retreating soldiers would be spreading word of his victory by now. He also knew that the Capitol would not remain indecisive for long. Whether they sent assassins, emissaries, or armies, something would come. He was ready for it.
What he did not expect was for the first person to seek him out to be a princess.