The morning air smelled of baked bread and dew-soaked stone. Aiden walked the streets of Drosmere with his boys trailing behind, but his mind was not on the slums today.
He had learned that one of Lady Selene's minor attendants, a clerk named Orwin, would be overseeing deliveries of rare fabrics to the Veyra estate. The young man was meticulous but timid, easily flustered under pressure. Aiden recognized an opportunity.
When the wagon carrying the fabric got stuck in a narrow street, Orwin's face turned pale. Merchants cursed, guards muttered, and bystanders pushed against one another. Aiden stepped forward.
"Step aside," he said, calm but firm. His hands moved as quickly as his mind. He directed the wagon wheels around obstacles, instructing the horses, the men, even the pedestrians with an authority that made them comply without question. In minutes, the wagon moved free, the fabric intact.
Orwin blinked, astonished. "You… how did you—?"
"I watch," Aiden said simply. "I notice."
The young clerk did not argue, only nodded, a flicker of respect in his eyes. "I will mention your help to my lady," he said quietly, and hurried to the estate.
Aiden allowed himself a small smile. The Veyra circle had been touched, if only indirectly. Lady Selene herself had not yet seen him, but the wheels of recognition had begun turning.
That evening, back beneath the broken arch, Aiden recounted the day to his boys. "Every step is a thread," he said, spreading a map of the city on the dirt. "This one today ties us closer to the hill. Remember this—every favor, every act of help, every detail noticed builds a ladder. And ladders lead to doors that no one will open without them."
His boys listened, rapt and fearful, understanding that their master had grown far beyond the ghost they once knew.
Aiden touched the pendant. Its faint warmth seemed to hum with approval. He did not yet have power on the hill, not yet the recognition of Lady Selene herself—but he had influence, and that was the first step toward reaching her.
The game had begun in earnest. And the ghost of the slums was learning to play in light.