Lord Regent Valerius sat upon his makeshift throne, a scowl etched deep into his features. The grand hall, usually bustling with sycophants and petitioners, was quiet, save for the nervous shuffling of his personal guard. Dawn had broken, painting the stained-glass windows with a sickly yellow light, but the air remained heavy with the chill of the dungeon. Lysander's trial was meant to be a swift, public spectacle, a clear message to any who dared defy the Regent's authority. Yet, a nagging unease gnawed at Valerius.
His youngest son, Elara, had been unusually agitated this morning. The boy, typically lost in his dusty scrolls, had burst into Valerius's chambers before first light, babbling about a riddle from the condemned prisoner.
Valerius had dismissed it as childish nonsense, a desperate ploy from a dying man. But the second part of the riddle,delivered by the simple-minded guard Borin, had resonated with an unsettling familiarity: 'The map to freedom lies not in the lines, but in the shadows they cast. Seek the hidden path where the sun never shines, and the truth is etched in stone.'
Valerius knew those words. They were from an ancient, obscure text on castle architecture, a text he himself had studied in his youth, long before power had consumed him. It spoke of the forgotten tunnels beneath the very castle he now ruled, a network of passages rumored to hold secrets of the old kingdom. He had always considered them mere legends, or at best, crumbling, unusable relics. But the prisoner… how could he know?
A cold dread began to settle in Valerius's stomach. He had underestimated Lysander. He had seen only a weak, insignificant noble, easily crushed. But the riddle, the precision of its wording, the way it alluded to knowledge only a handful possessed… it hinted at a mind far more dangerous than he had anticipated.
"Bring the prisoner!" Valerius roared, his voice echoing through the silent hall. He
needed to see Lysander, to gauge the depth of his cunning, to understand how much of a threat he truly posed. The public execution could wait. First, he needed answers.
Meanwhile, in a secluded chamber deep within the castle, Prince Elara traced the lines of an ancient map, his brow furrowed in concentration. The first riddle, a simple map,had been a test, he realized now. The second… the second was a key. He had recognized the phrasing instantly, having stumbled upon the same obscure text in his ather's forbidden library. The 'hidden path where the sun never shines' could only refer to the legendary tunnels. And the 'truth etched in stone'… he knew exactly what that meant.
Weeks ago, while exploring a rarely used storage cellar, Elara had discovered a hidden passage, concealed behind a loose stone. Inside, a narrow, winding tunnel led downwards into the earth. He hadn't dared venture far, but he had noticed a peculiar carving on the wall, a symbol he couldn't decipher, but one that felt ancient and significant. He had dismissed it then, but now, with Lysander's riddle, it clicked into
place.
Lysander, the condemned prisoner, was speaking to him. He was asking for help. And more importantly, he was offering a glimpse into a world of intellect and intrigue that Elara, stifled by his father's crude ambition, desperately craved. His father saw only power and brute force. Lysander saw patterns, connections, and the subtle dance of influence. Elara, despite his fear, felt a surge of excitement. This was a game he wanted to play.
He quickly gathered a few essential items: a sturdy lantern, a coil of rope, and a small,sharp dagger. He knew the risks. If his father discovered his actions, the consequences would be severe. But the allure of the unknown, the promise of a mind that could see beyond the obvious, was too strong to resist. He had to find that hidden chamber, and the truth etched in stone.
As the guards approached Lysander's cell, a faint smile touched the prisoner's lips. He
felt the subtle shift in the castle's energy, the ripple of unease emanating from the Regent's chambers. Valerius was reacting, just as Lysander had predicted. The game was indeed afoot. And the first move, a simple riddle, had already set the stage for a much larger play. Lysander knew that Elara, the quiet, bookish prince, was his most valuable pawn. A pawn that, if played correctly, could topple a king