Fourth Arc (Thorns of The Black Throne) - 476. Something Has Changed
He stopped.
Reread it.
A strange warmth spread through his chest.
Not painful. Not confusing. Just… real.
He didn't know what to do with it yet.
But for the first time in a long while, he didn't feel lost inside his own mind.
He closed the journal gently.
Placed it back where it belonged.
And whispered into the quiet room, barely audible,
"Something has changed."
He stayed still for a moment, listening to the echo of his own voice fade into the morning quiet. The castle breathed softly around him. Faint footsteps echoed from the distant hallway. A servant cart squeaked on stone two floors down. The sun crept higher, brushing pale warmth across his floorboards.
Something had changed.
He wasn't imagining it.
The clarity, the awareness, the way the castle seemed sharper, the colors less muted, the air lighter. It wasn't just the absence of headache. It was the presence of… himself. The part he thought he had been losing for years.
He straightened.
And as he did, another realization slid into place.
Maybe this shift wasn't random.
Maybe it was because of them.
He whispered it into the quiet, like if he said it too loudly, the idea would vanish.
"The King of Euphorion."
Even saying it brought something strange to his chest. Not fear. Not admiration. Something like… anchoring. As if the man's presence had jolted something in him awake, even if he didn't understand how.
He exhaled.
And then another name.
"And the queen."
Rose Ambrosia Heart. That calm gaze. That soft, steady power she carried like a second skin. Her aura alone had made something in him twinge last night. Not in a painful way. In a way that felt like pressure on a bruise you didn't know was there until someone touched it.
He rubbed the back of his neck.
Maybe they were the reason.
Maybe their presence had cracked something open. Knocked something loose.
He didn't know.
But he needed to find out.
Roric stood up again. The cold stone pressed against the soles of his feet, grounding him.
Possibilities spun in his head, sharp as splintered ice.
If Euphorion's king truly was a threat to Seraphine's plans, then maybe, just maybe, the fog wrapped around Roric's mind had reacted to that presence. Maybe it had faltered. Maybe it had recoiled.
It wasn't logical, but neither was the fog itself.
What mattered was the result.
He could think again.
Even if only for a morning.
He paced once. Twice. Then forced himself to stop.
No impulsive decisions.
He was a prince of Pontus, even if the court had started treating him like a decorative figure over the years.
He pressed both hands onto the table, steadying himself.
Think.
If he approached Angelus openly, Darius might see it as betrayal. Seraphine would certainly notice. She'd ask questions. Offer him tonic. Watch his reactions.
He felt his stomach twist at the thought of drinking another drop.
No. Never again.
He straightened fully.
He couldn't reveal anything yet. He couldn't ask directly for help. He couldn't even show that clarity had returned.
He needed to pretend.
Pretend he was still fogged. Still obedient. Still the loyal Pontus prince with a loyal Pontus headache.
But inside?
He would dig. He would watch. He would figure out what Seraphine had done.
And maybe the King and Queen of Euphorion could be the key.
Not allies. Not yet.
But possibilities.
He touched his head lightly. Still clear.
He couldn't waste this morning.
He moved toward the bathing chamber.
The moment he opened the door, steam curled out gently, the scent of fresh herbs rising from the heated water. A touch of ground bark from the forest near the northern cliffs. The servants had prepared it hours ago, as usual.
He stepped inside.
The marble beneath his feet warmed gradually as he approached the bath. The air hugged his skin, the heat making him aware of muscles he had forgotten about. He undressed slowly, each piece of clothing feeling heavier now that he was thinking clearly. The formal attire slid from his shoulders with a soft whisper.
He stepped into the water.
Heat wrapped around him immediately. His breath escaped in a low sigh. The tension in his arms loosened. His jaw unclenched.
And with relaxation came another wave of clarity.
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