Of course, it fell to her to show Hazelrink around the Insurgent Division. She wore a white turtleneck with long sleeves and a flowing green maxi skirt. Her heels clicked softly against the polished floor as they walked.
Hazelrink, unsurprisingly, wore yet another black suit. She shot him a brief glance. Did he own any other color? Apparently not. She shook her head subtly and focused on the task at hand.
"The Insurgent Division oversees the security of the magical realm," she began, gesturing towards the corridor. "Beneath it are two subdivisions: the Imperialis and the Investigative. The Imperialis Subdivision is composed of warlocks trained to respond to magical accidents and threats.. field agents, if you will. Meanwhile, the Investigative Subdivision works alongside the Nefarious Division to uncover the origins of those threats, trace patterns, and collect intelligence."
Hazelrink raised an eyebrow, his tone skeptical. "So mages aren't allowed in the Imperialis?"
She let out a breath, half a sigh, half a laugh. "I'm... actually working on that," she said, her voice tinged with dry irony. "Unfortunately, several Division Heads have been strongly against the idea. They believe only warlocks have the capacity for direct combat operations."
When they entered the Insurgent Division, it was more open and alive than Hazelrink expected. The platform was wide and filled with trainees, some were practicing hand-to-hand combat without magic, others training with spells and enchantments. Still, magic was clearly the primary strength here.
"Secretary."
Revlis turned and raised a hand in greeting. The man approaching was tall, broad-shouldered, with ginger hair tied neatly behind his head. Freckles dotted his fair skin, and his sharp black eyes studied them carefully.
"Captain Cyrien Valehart," She gave a small nod. "Good to see you."
Cyrien looked at Hazelrink with slight surprise. "I didn't know Iuhence Hazelrink would be visiting our Division."
Hazelrink nodded politely. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."
"I only brought him for a short visit," Revlis added before any misunderstandings could form. "He will be working under the Sanctum of Solenyx, but I want him to understand how our defense divisions operate."
"I see." Cyrien reached out to shake Hazelrink's hand. "Well, welcome. Let me introduce a few of our officers."
He gestured to a sharp-featured man standing nearby. "This is Lieutenant Kaelis Ardent Fenn. He handles our tactical operations during major threats, especially during breaches or entity attacks."
Kaelis gave a curt nod.
Cyrien then pointed to a woman leaning casually against a pillar. She had one side of her head shaved, the rest of her black hair falling past her shoulder. Her clothes were tailored perfectly, and two short blades were secured at her hips.
"This is Specialist Yria Celeste Devane. She leads our scouting and investigating teams. She's from the Investigative Subdivision."
Yria raised an eyebrow. "So, the rich Hazelrink's son is now interested in our fieldwork?"
Hazelrink kept his tone respectful. "Only to observe. I don't claim to be one of you."
Revlis stepped in. "He is here to learn, not to take anyone's place. You'll be working alongside people like him one day, best to understand each other now."
Kaelis gave a small grin. "We'll see how he feels after watching a full training round."
"You're not throwing him into the training circle, are you?"
Yria smiled faintly. "We were thinking about it."
Hazelrink didn't step back. "I've seen my share of dangerous things. I'm not afraid to learn through experience."
Cyrien looked at him with interest. "Spoken like a scholar with something to prove. Let's hope your courage holds."
Revlis gave them a long, thoughtful stare before shaking her head firmly. "No. Absolutely not."
Cyrien raised an eyebrow. "And why not?"
"Don't keep him all to yourself, Secretary Velroque," Yria grinned at her. "Besides, he didn't exactly refuse our offer, did he?"
Revlis's lips parted, clearly ready to respond, but Hazelrink spoke before she could.
"I apologize on her behalf," he said, a soft chuckle escaping him. "Velroque is not the type to leave her duties unfinished. We'll complete what she has planned for me first. After that, I may consider your invitation."
Cyrien folded his arms, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Fair enough. But don't take too long, we might not be as patient next time."
They proceeded to the second level of the building, where the Subdivisions were located. Upon arriving at the Imperialis Subdivision office, Revlis grimaced slightly. In hindsight, perhaps bringing Hazelrink here hadn't been the wisest choice.
Solrien was there.
He looked up, visibly surprised to see her, but his gaze quickly shifted to Hazelrink.
"Revlis. It's been a while," Solrien said as he approached.
She returned a polite but faint smile. "Hello. I'm just giving Hazelrink a quick tour around the Division."
Hazelrink offered a reserved nod. "Good to see you, Turan. How are you and your little ones? I heard you'll be welcoming one more. Congratulations."
"Thank you," Solrien said with a curt nod.
These two had never shared a good childhood. Solrien was a crossbreed, a half-blood, and Hazelrink was a proud-born Purosangue. They couldn't stand each other, not even from their first year at Halcyon Tower.
Solrien had always been naturally talented, perhaps not in academics, but in nearly everything else. He had become widely admired, often praised just for being the son of the heroes who once saved the magical realm. Meanwhile, Hazelrink came from a prestigious lineage with wealth, but he had always stood in Solrien's shadow in one way or another.
"Revlis," Solrien said suddenly, drawing her attention.
Her eyes lit up slightly, and she turned to him. "Yes?"
"Zelva asked me to pass on her regards. She wanted to invite you to Cassiel and Cassius's birthday celebration next week. It will be held on Saturday, if you're available."
Revlis hesitated. She didn't really want to attend. Every time she showed up to one of their gatherings, people whispered. As if she were there only for Solrien, and not on her own terms. She hated the way they made it seem like she was interfering in his life.
Her lips parted as if to decline, but instead she offered a small smile. "I'll try to make it, but I'm not sure yet—"
Before she could finish, Hazelrink raised a brow and slid an arm around her waist, pulling her closer.
"Hmm? But didn't you say we'd be in Paris for a date?" he said, feigning confusion.
Revlis turned to look at him, stunned by the absurdity of what he'd just said. Was he trying to cover for her?
"...Right." She played along, forcing a more certain tone. "Sorry, Sol. But I can still send something for them, I'll give a gift in advance. Maybe I'll hand it to Hecate or Therese if either of them plans to attend."
Solrien looked puzzled for a moment, but he offered a polite smile and gave a small nod. "Alright."
Revlis felt her shoulders stiffen. She had no desire to remain there any longer, especially not under Solrien's gaze. Without another word, she turned and left, Hazelrink following closely behind her. They walked in silence until they reached the Investigative Subdivision office.
As soon as they stepped inside and the door clicked shut behind them, she spun around to face him.
"Why would you say that?" she asked, her tone sharp. Her brow furrowed, and her voice was laced with irritation. "You had no reason to lie like that."
Hazelrink leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, entirely unbothered. "I was doing you a favor," he replied. "You looked like you could barely speak when Turan showed up. I was trying to save you from embarrassing yourself."
Her jaw tightened. "That's not true. I was handling it just fine."
He let out a soft scoff. "Were you? You couldn't even look him in the eye properly. It was painful to watch."
"You didn't need to drag me into one of your games. Making up a fake date to France? What are people supposed to think?"
"That we're together, maybe," he replied with a smirk. "Which would stop Turan and his precious wife from trying to pull you into their perfect little world."
"I don't care about their world!" she snapped, taking a step closer. "I just didn't want to cause problems. I was going to decline politely."
"And yet you hesitated," Hazelrink retorted back. His gaze hardened. "You're still stuck on him, Velroque. You always have been. Even when he ignored you. Even when he pretended you were just a convenient shadow."
She stiffened. "Mind your own business, Hazelrink. You don't know what you're talking about."
"But it's true," he said firmly. "You think he's this noble figure who just wants peace. But he only ever reached for you when it was convenient. And you? You keep hoping he'll see you the way you see him."
Her lips parted, but she couldn't find an immediate reply.
Revlis immediately seized the collar of Hazelrink's suit, her fingers curling tightly into the fabric as she glared up at him. He looked down at her, but her expression showed distress, frustration, even a flicker of something wounded. And she despised it.
She hated how his words got under her skin. She hated his arrogance, his self-appointed superiority. And above all, she hated how casually he spoke of Solrien.
"Don't you dare speak of him that way," she hissed. "Do you hear me? He is nothing like you!"
Hazelrink raised a brow, unimpressed. Then, with the barest flicker of disinterest, he rolled his eyes.
That was enough.
Revlis shoved him away with both hands, the force enough to stagger him slightly. She didn't say another word. Their so-called tour ended right there. She turned and stormed off, leaving him behind without looking back.
She had Luschariel process the rest of Hazelrink's application on her behalf. From then on, she didn't see him again around the Sanctum, not once since he officially began working under the Investigative Division. And frankly, she preferred it that way.
There were more pressing matters to attend to, anyway. The upcoming Gala for the Sanctum of Solenyx, for one, an event she had not planned on organizing until Luschariel, on a whim, had declared he was bored and demanded a grand celebration to close the month of July. It was absurd. Revlis was now torn between resigning from her position or strangling the man with her bare hands.
While she worked through stacks of documents, Hecate entered the room, holding two wrapped boxes.
"What are these?" Hecate asked, lifting a brow.
"Gifts," Revlis replied. "Please give them to Cassius and Cassiel on my stead. I don't plan to attend the celebration."
Hecate looked at her sternly. "Revlis, it has been two years. Are you truly not going to attend any of their birthdays simply because Solrien will be present, worse.. he is their father?"
Revlis exhaled quietly and leaned back in her chair. "Please understand."
"I have tried to," Hecate replied, crossing her arms. "But the last time you attended was three years ago. And if I recall, the incident that caused your absence wasn't even particularly serious."
She shook her head, her voice quiet but steady. "They believe I am interfering with Solrien and Zelva's marriage. That my presence disrupts their family."
"And you believe avoiding the twins's birthdays will somehow protect them?" Hecate pressed. "You're not ruining anything. You know that. They know that. Solrien has never once accused you of anything."
Revlis didn't answer right away. She stared at the desk in silence before speaking again. "Solrien has never defended me. He never denied what they implied. That silence says enough."
"Revlis... you're their family too. You always have been."
She did not know what to do. Her thoughts were in disarray, and her heart remained conflicted. As Hecate left the room, Revlis remained seated, as if sealed off from the rest of the world.
In truth, the world she once knew had already closed its doors to her. Now, her entire life revolved around Luschariel and the Sanctum. That was all that remained. Her duty, her responsibilities, and the silence that accompanied them.
That evening, she stayed awake long into the night. Her eyes were fixed on the scattered plans for the Gala. Should she send invitations at all? Where would it even be held?
Perhaps the Cathedral of St. Dunstan-in-the-East.
All it would take was an official request to the Prime Minister of England, and she could secure the cathedral. She gently pressed a finger to her chin, deep in thought. Or maybe not.
She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes, knowing full well that even with all her planning, nothing would fill the space she had chosen to leave empty.
She had fallen asleep at her desk.
By the time she woke, sunlight had already begun to filter through the high windows of her office. Groggy and disoriented, Revlis rubbed her eyes and pushed herself up from her chair.
"Gods," she muttered under her breath. "I actually slept here..."
Before she could gather herself, the door suddenly burst open. The sound was loud, almost annoying, and she instinctively raised her hand to her ears. Her senses were still sensitive from her awakening.
Luschariel strode in, wearing his usual bright smile. "Ah, my dearest Secretary!"
Revlis stared at him blankly, her expression utterly unamused. Her disheveled state made it painfully obvious that this was not the morning for enthusiasm.
Luschariel tilted his head as he walked toward the velvet sofa and dropped onto it without care. "You don't look well."
"I slept here," she replied flatly. "Obviously."
He placed an arm across the back of the sofa and gave her a once-over. "Yes, I can see that. The ink stain on your cheek rather confirms it."
She blinked, then wiped at her face hastily. "Great. Just what I needed."
"I told you not to overwork yourself," he said lightly, almost sing-song in tone. "But you never listen."
"I have a gala to plan," she said, reaching for the papers on her desk. "And since you're the one who insisted on it, I hardly have the luxury of rest."
Luschariel waved a hand. "Rest is a state of mind. Besides, I trust you'll make it magnificent. You always do."
Revlis sighed, dragging a hand down her face. "Do you even know how many permits I have to request? Why don't you decide the location of the Gala instead?"
He shrugged. "Then ask sweetly."
She threw him a sharp glare, and he simply grinned in return. "Your sarcasm is unwelcome this early in the day."
"But your company," he replied, "is the highlight of mine."
Revlis groaned and slumped back in her chair. "I need coffee."
"I'll send for it, and perhaps a new secretary to replace the one currently dying in front of me."
She rolled her eyes, exasperated. "Whatever. What are you doing here, exactly?"
Luschariel sat up straighter, folding his hands neatly in his lap with a faintly smug expression. "Just so you're aware, the venue for the gala will be under full protection of the Imperialis. There will be no security concerns."
Revlis narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "And?"
He gave a charming, almost too-innocent smile. "And to ensure you are not left unattended during the evening... you shall be accompanied by a most honorable partner." He leaned forward slightly. "You will be attending with Iuhence Hazelrink."
She froze, and then immediately sputtered, choking on her own breath. "I'm sorry—what?"
"Yes," Luschariel said simply, folding his arms.
She could hardly believe what she had just heard. Hazelrink—of all people? Truly, Luschariel was becoming insufferable. An utter thorn in her side.
"No." Her voice was sharp and immediate.
"Yes," he repeated, unbothered.
She stood from her seat, disbelief written all over her face. "Luschariel, you can't be serious. Of all people, him?"
He raised an eyebrow. "He's very resourceful, tactful in diplomacy, and—"
"He's arrogant, he's insufferable, and I loathe him," she cut in coldly. "You know that."
"All the more reason this will be good practice," he said, grinning. "Mend relations. Show unity. Play nice."
"It's humiliating."
"Not at all," he said in exaggeration. "Think of it as... character development."
She gave him a glare so piercing it could've cracked stone. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
"Very much," he admitted, standing up and straightening his sleeves. "But that doesn't change the fact that Hazelrink is expecting to escort you. He was informed an hour ago."
"You already told him?!"
"You were asleep," he said with a shrug. "And I rather thought you'd say yes. Or at least not scream."
"Well, consider this my formal protest," she snapped, crossing her arms.
"Duly noted," he said, and with a wink. "But not approved."
"Why are you doing this?" she asked, raising a brow at him, suspicion laced in her voice. Luschariel merely shrugged, unbothered as usual. She never truly understood the workings of his mind, no one did. Not even within these walls.
He stood up leisurely and brushed imaginary dust from his coat. "After all your tireless effort, I thought you deserved a moment of enjoyment."
"With Hazelrink?" she scoffed. "Hardly sounds enjoyable."
"I believe the two of you make a formidable pair," he said, clasping his hands behind his back. "Together, you're unstoppable."
She narrowed her eyes. "I will hex him the moment he breathes in my direction."
Unfazed, Luschariel grinned. "Ah, but that's precisely what makes it entertaining. Two brilliant minds. Equally ambitious. He's the most eligible bachelor in the magical realm, and you, Revlis, are its most untouchable maiden."
"I would rather be alone," she said coldly, arms crossed.
"Too bad," he said lightly. "It's already arranged. I sent out the gala invitations this morning."
Her mouth fell open. "You—what?"
He offered a casual bow. "Consider it a strategic move. Politics is theater, my dear. And you two, whether you like it or not—are my favorite lead actors."
Revlis let out a slow, exasperated breath. "What you are doing.. will cause a ruckus."
"I know," he said with a grin. "Isn't it thrilling?"
"We fought on opposing sides during the war. Solrien will never approve of this," Revlis's eyes narrowed in warning.
Luschariel remained composed. "Darling, Turan's parents were revered as heroes. Naturally, the magical realm expected greatness from him. And in many ways, he delivered. But he proved something else far more dangerous... he is too willing to sacrifice himself."
He has a point. She thought.
"That flaw, while admirable to some, is ultimately his greatest weakness. He would throw his life away if blades were ever pointed at his family's throats."
He walked slowly around her office, letting his fingers brush across the spines of the books on her shelf until one caught his eye. He pulled it out, inspected the title with mild curiosity, then placed it gently on her desk.
"Tell me, Revlis," he murmured, "do you think someone like Iuhence Hazelrink would do the same? And answer not as Turan's war companion, but as someone who's watched both men closely."
She paused, eyes flickering in thought.
The truth was complicated. The world never learned of Hazelrink's contributions during the war, because he never allowed it to be known. He acted in silence, playing both sides of the conflict without ever being caught.
It was Hazelrink who enabled Luschariel to defeat the Cleric. And yet, when the dust settled, Solrien received all the praises.
After the war, Hazelrink vanished from public sight. His trial yielded no verdict. They sent him to Romania, and not even Revlis knew the full reason why.
"Hazelrink..." she said slowly, choosing her words with care. "I believe he would've done the opposite. He wouldn't let himself be killed. If anyone so much as threatened his bloodline, he'd wipe them out instead before they could even act... I think he's dangerous when provoked."
"Precisely," Luschariel said with quiet satisfaction. "He is not the kind to gamble his life for another's. He understands that a corpse saves no one. Turan, however..." He paused and gave her a pointed look. "He would die a martyr, and leave those who depended on him defenseless."
Revlis frowned. "That's a cruel way of seeing it."
"It's a practical one," Luschariel replied. "And I dare say, it's time we start choosing people who understand the weight of survival, not just the poetry of sacrifice. Because it's merely stupid theatrics."