The slums had been Aiden's kingdom, the broken arch his throne. But now, the hill—the gilded world of the Veyras—beckoned. He did not rush. He knew influence was a game of patience, and patience was his strongest weapon.
He began with the periphery: clerks, junior stewards, and minor attendants. Each small interaction carried weight. A missed delivery corrected with precision, a subtle piece of advice whispered to the right merchant, a clever arrangement of goods that saved a minor noble from embarrassment—these were not grand gestures, but ripples that reached upward.
Lady Selene's steward, Tharen, began to notice. The boy who delivered insights quietly, whose name he did not know, was clever beyond his apparent status. He shared reports with Lady Selene, framing them as interesting patterns in the lower markets.
Selene listened, intrigued. "This boy," she murmured one evening, "he is clever, patient, and careful. I would like to see him—eventually. But we must not force him into our world too soon."
Aiden, unaware of her deliberation, continued his careful moves. He helped a young clerk avoid a financial error that would have embarrassed a noble, ensured a minor merchant received correct payment, and even returned a lost ledger from the estate, unsigned, leaving only a note: Details matter.
The impact was subtle but undeniable. Whispers of a clever, precise, and reliable boy began circulating in the Veyra circle. No one knew his name, his origin, or the breadth of his influence—but everyone sensed his presence.
Back in the slums, Aiden reviewed the day with his boys. "Each small action," he said, arranging coins in a neat line, "is a thread. Alone, it is weak. But together, they weave a net that reaches higher than we could climb in a single leap. The hill cannot ignore us forever."
The pendant pulsed softly against his chest. Knowledge flowed into his mind—patterns, probabilities, subtle calculations. Aiden trusted it, but relied on his own discipline to turn insight into strategy.
Soon, he would no longer be a shadow observed from afar. Soon, he would step closer, carefully, deliberately, until even Lady Selene could not ignore him.
And the ghost of the slums smiled in the quiet darkness, knowing every thread was a step toward the throne he would build from shadow, wit, and patience.