Weeks passed, and the port no longer felt like a storm Kael was drowning in.
Now, when he stepped out of the car, the noise of the docks met him like something familiar rather than overwhelming. The shouts of workers, the grind of cranes, the heavy thud of cargo settling into place, all of it had begun to form a pattern in his mind. What once felt chaotic now moved with rhythm. ⚓
He had learned where to look when a shipment was delayed.
He knew which supervisors kept their crews disciplined and which needed watching.
He could read a loading schedule without feeling lost halfway through.
He was still new.
But he was no longer helpless.
That morning, as he entered the main office building, a clerk hurried toward him.
"Mr. Kael," the man said, slightly out of breath. "Mr. Vance is waiting for you in the director's cabin."
Kael paused for half a second.
Vance.
Waiting.
"For me?" Kael asked.
"Yes, sir."
Kael gave a small nod and continued down the corridor. His steps were steady, but he already knew this would not be a casual conversation.
When he entered the director's cabin, Vance was standing near the tall window, hands clasped behind his back as he looked out over the harbor. He did not turn immediately when Kael walked in.
"You're not late," Vance said, still facing the window. "Good. At least you've learned punctuality."
Kael closed the door behind him. "You wanted to see me?"
Now Vance turned. His expression was calm, but his eyes carried the same sharp assessment they always did.
"There's a file," he said, walking to the desk and picking up a thick folder. He placed it down in front of Kael. "An approval document. It requires the king's signature before the shipment can proceed."
Kael looked at the file but did not touch it yet. "And?"
"And," Vance continued, "for the past two months, our representatives have tried to get that signature. Meetings, requests, formal appeals. Nothing worked."
His gaze sharpened.
"The king has refused to sign."
Silence settled between them.
Vance tapped the file once with two fingers.
"So this," he said evenly, "is a good opportunity."
Kael finally met his eyes. "For what?"
"To see how capable you are, Mr. Kael Ravenshade."
The words were smooth, but the challenge inside them was unmistakable.
Kael's brows drew together slightly. "If experienced negotiators couldn't convince him… why would I be able to?"
"That," Vance replied, "is exactly what we are about to find out."
Kael did not answer immediately.
The weight of the file on the desk felt heavier than its paper should allow. Many had tried. Many had failed. He had only just begun learning how the docks functioned, and now he was being pushed toward a royal refusal that seasoned officials could not break.
"I don't think this is realistic," Kael said honestly. "I'm still learning. Sending me to do what others couldn't…"
He let the sentence trail off.
Vance did not look surprised by the hesitation.
"No one said it would be easy," he said. "But Ravenshades are not measured when things are simple."
His eyes held Kael in place.
"They are measured when things refuse to move."
The room felt quieter than before, as if even the distant port noise had pulled back to listen.
The file remained on the desk between them.
Waiting.
Kael stood there for a moment longer, eyes resting on the file as if it might suddenly reveal the answer written between its lines.
Then he exhaled.
"I'll try," he said at last. "If I fail, I fail. There's nothing more to be done after that."
It was not confidence.
It was acceptance.
Vance studied him for a second, as if weighing whether those words came from courage or simple stubbornness. In the end, he gave a short nod.
"Take the file," he said. "You'll need every detail inside it."
Kael picked up the folder. It felt heavier now, not because of the paper, but because of what it represented. A test. A trap. Or maybe a turning point.
Without another word, he turned and left the cabin.
The corridor outside buzzed with the usual office movement, clerks walking fast with documents in hand, voices low but urgent. Yet as Kael walked through them, it felt as though he were moving in a quieter world of his own.
He went down the stairs instead of waiting for assistance, the sound of his footsteps echoing softly against the walls. Each step felt like a countdown. 🕰️
Ground floor.
Main entrance.
The bright port air greeted him as the doors opened. The smell of salt and iron filled his lungs. Ships groaned in the distance, cranes turning like slow giants over the docks.
His car was already waiting.
The driver hurried to open the door. "Where to, young master?"
Kael got in, placing the file carefully on his lap.
"The King's Palace," he said.
The driver blinked once in surprise but quickly nodded. "Yes, sir."
The door shut with a firm click. The engine started, and the car rolled away from the Ravenshade building, leaving behind the noise of the docks.
Kael looked down at the royal approval file resting in his hands.
He had spent weeks learning how goods moved across water and land.
Now he was about to learn how power moved through people. 👑
The city thinned as the car climbed toward the royal district, stone roads giving way to sweeping curves bordered by sculpted hedges and silver trimmed fences.
Then the gardens began.
They stretched outward like a painted dream brought to life. Flowers of every color swayed in careful harmony, their arrangement too deliberate to be wild, too vibrant to be ordinary. Butterflies drifted lazily between blossoms, unafraid of passing vehicles. White doves dotted the lawns, and somewhere in the distance, a small deer lifted its head before disappearing behind a row of rose trellises. 🌸🦋
It did not feel like a seat of power.
It felt like a place built to protect something precious.
Kael watched quietly through the window.
Then the palace came into view.
Even knowing his father was the wealthiest man in the country, Kael could tell at once that this was different. Ravenshade wealth was built on movement, trade, steel, and salt. The palace was built on permanence.
Tall white spires rose into the sky, their surfaces catching sunlight like polished marble. Long banners drifted from high balconies. The structure was vast, but not loud. Its size did not boast. It declared. 👑
The car rolled through the open iron gates, guards standing at attention as it passed. The Ravenshade crest on the number plate did not go unnoticed. Eyes followed the vehicle, but no one stopped it.
They drove along a curved stone path that circled a grand fountain before leading to the main entrance. Wide steps climbed toward towering doors carved with royal emblems and scenes of the kingdom's history.
The car came to a smooth stop.
Before the driver could step out, a palace officer in formal uniform approached and opened Kael's door with a respectful bow.
"Welcome to the Royal Palace, sir."
Kael stepped out, shoes touching polished stone that had likely been walked by kings for generations.
"Thank you," he said calmly.
Inside, the palace was quieter than expected. Sunlight filtered through tall windows, casting soft patterns across the floors. The air carried a faint scent of polished wood and fresh flowers. Servants moved silently in the distance, trained not to disturb the stillness.
Kael was guided down a long corridor where portraits of past rulers lined the walls, their painted eyes seeming to follow every step.
At the end of the hall, a well dressed man stood waiting beside a set of double doors.
"I am the King's assistant," he said with a polite bow. "How may I help you?"
"I am Kael Ravenshade," Kael replied, holding the file. "I came regarding a document requiring His Majesty's signature. Is the King available?"
The assistant studied him briefly, then nodded.
"His Majesty is free at the moment. You may meet him."
He opened the doors and gestured inside.
"The King is in his study."
Kael gave a small nod of thanks and stepped forward, crossing the threshold into the room where the ruler of the nation awaited.
The doors closed behind Kael with a soft, final click.
The room was wrapped in quiet. Not the empty kind, but the heavy, deliberate silence of a place where words were weighed before being spoken. Tall shelves lined the walls, filled with books bound in dark leather. A fire burned low in the hearth despite the mild weather, its gentle crackle the only sound in the chamber.
At the center of the room, seated on a deep upholstered sofa, was the King.
He wore no crown, no ceremonial robes. Just a refined dark coat with subtle embroidery at the cuffs. Yet nothing about him felt informal. His presence carried the steady gravity of someone long accustomed to being obeyed.
His gaze lifted as Kael approached.
Sharp. Observant. Patient.
Kael stopped at a respectful distance and bowed.
"Your Majesty."
The King studied him for a moment that stretched just long enough to feel intentional.
Then he gestured toward the seat across from him.
"Sit, Mr. Ravenshade."
His voice was calm, smooth, and controlled, neither warm nor cold.
An evaluation.
Kael stepped forward and took the offered seat, placing the file carefully on his lap. He sat straight, composed, meeting the King's eyes without challenge, but without submission either.
The firelight flickered between them, casting shifting shadows across the polished floor.
The King leaned back slightly.
"So," he said, fingers resting loosely against the arm of the sofa, "another Ravenshade comes to ask for my signature."
The King's gaze lingered on him a moment longer, not as a ruler now, but as someone measuring the man behind the name.
"By the way," he said, tone softer but still composed, "how are you feeling now? You were in a coma for many years. Are you well?"
Kael inclined his head slightly.
"I am much better now, Your Majesty," he replied calmly. "There are still things my body and mind are catching up to… but I am standing on my own again. That is enough for me."
His voice was steady, not dramatic, not seeking sympathy.
"I cannot recover the years I lost," he added, "but I can decide what I do with the years ahead."
The King watched him without interruption, eyes thoughtful, as if that answer mattered far beyond simple politeness.
Kael sat upright, the document folder resting neatly on his lap.
"Your Majesty," he began, calm and respectful, "I came today regarding a trade authorization that has been awaiting your approval."
The King did not respond immediately, but his gaze shifted briefly toward the folder.
Kael continued, choosing his words carefully.
"This agreement concerns port expansion and a revised customs route. If approved, it will increase the efficiency of incoming and outgoing shipments. Delays will be reduced, storage congestion at the docks will ease, and trade flow through Grimsford will become smoother."
He placed the folder gently on the table between them but did not push it forward.
"This is not a matter that benefits only one company," he said. "Faster trade means lower costs for merchants, more stable supply of goods in the markets, and increased tax revenue for the crown. It strengthens the city's position as the heart of Krythalis trade."
His tone remained steady, not forceful.
"The ports are already at their limits. Without this adjustment, congestion will worsen. Smaller merchants will suffer first. Then transport delays will begin affecting inland industries."
He met the King's eyes directly, but respectfully.
"I am not asking this as Rowan Ravenshade's son," Kael said quietly. "I am asking as someone who has seen the current state of the docks with his own eyes. This decision will benefit the city as a whole."
The room fell silent again, the weight of responsibility shifting gently from paper… to judgment.