The estate gardens were alive with color and fragrance, the air thick with the soft murmur of conversations, clinking glasses, and polite laughter. A minor celebration of trade and diplomacy brought together merchants, minor nobles, and a handful of stewards and attendants. Lady Selene moved among them, graceful and observant, her presence commanding even in subtlety.
Aiden approached under the guise of a messenger, carrying a small bundle of documents detailing clever arrangements of trade from the lower markets. His boys waited nearby, hidden among the shadows of the garden walls, ready to intervene if necessary—but Aiden did not need them tonight.
He navigated the crowd carefully, eyes sharp. When a minor accident occurred—a tray of wine toppled toward a merchant—Aiden acted instantly. With a quick step and a precise hand, he caught the tray, righted it, and prevented what could have been a social embarrassment.
A hush fell over the nearby guests, and all eyes briefly turned to him. Among them, Lady Selene's gaze lingered. Calm, composed, she observed the boy whose actions were swift, measured, and intelligent.
"You have quick hands," she said softly as he passed near her, voice clear enough for him to hear. "And an eye for what others miss."
Aiden inclined his head subtly. "Attention to detail matters, my lady," he replied evenly, keeping his tone humble but confident. "It is the difference between success and failure."
Her lips curved faintly, intrigued. She did not yet know his name, his origin, or the breadth of his influence—but she sensed it. There was something deliberate, sharp, and unyielding about him, even in a simple act of courtesy.
The steward, Tharen, watched Aiden with growing suspicion and admiration, realizing that the boy from the streets had begun to make the kind of impression most carefully cultivated courtiers could not.
By the end of the evening, Aiden had left quietly, his presence noticed but unexplored. Back in the slums, beneath the broken arch, he reviewed the evening with his boys.
"She saw me," he said quietly, placing a hand on the pendant. "Not fully. Not yet. But it is enough. Every clever act, every detail remembered, brings us closer. Influence is a ladder, and tonight, we climbed one more rung."
The pendant pulsed softly, as if echoing his thought. Aiden did not yet know what Lady Selene's interest would bring—friendship, scrutiny, challenge—but he did know one thing: the ghost of the slums had begun to walk in the light of the hill.
And every careful step was his alone.