Two days later…
Allesio and Aamon returned to the palace. Everyone gathered to celebrate their return, but Tharil's face was twisted with frustration.
"Welcome back, my son," the king said, his voice filled with warmth.
Allesio and Aamon bowed before him.
"Did you retrieve the scroll?" the king asked.
"Yes, Father," Allesio replied confidently.
The king's face lit up with pride. Tharil, however, clenched his fists, barely containing his anger.
"You may go and rest now," the king said with a nod.
"Yes, Your Majesty," Aamon said, his tone formal.
The two left the room, the sound of the celebration fading behind them.
"See, I told you they would retrieve the scroll," the king said, glancing at Tharil with a knowing smile.
"Yes, Majesty," Tharil replied through gritted teeth, though inside he seethed with fury.
"You're still thinking about that masked man, aren't you?" Aamon asked as they walked down the corridor.
"Nah," Allesio said with a smirk. "I'm thinking about how I'm going to surprise Lilian."
He grinned, a rare lightness in his voice. "And besides, when I have you by my side, I don't need to worry about anything."
"You're trusting too much in me," Aamon said softly, almost to himself.
"That's what brothers do," Allesio said, clapping him on the back. "They rely on each other."
The two shared a brief, understanding glance before Allesio's face lit up with excitement.
"It's getting late, I gotta hurry," Allesio said, dashing off down the corridor.
Aamon stood there for a moment, watching Allesio's retreating figure. "Am I really worthy enough to be called your brother?" he murmured under his breath, a shadow of doubt crossing his face.
Suddenly, from a distance, Aamon felt a presence. His instincts sharpened, and he turned sharply toward the feeling. But whoever it was had already disappeared into the shadows.
Aamon narrowed his eyes, questioning. Who was watching him?
Later that day…
Lilian sat on a bench in a flowery garden, surrounded by cascading waterfalls and crystal-clear ponds. Birds flitted through the air, and fish jumped playfully in the water.
"I see the most beautiful flower in the world graces this garden today," Allesio said as he approached Lilian, his voice soft like a song.
"You're late," Lilian replied with a slight pout.
"You know, I returned from a long journey, but every step I took was for you," Allesio said, pulling out a small box. "And for the one who blooms brightest, I brought sweets as sweet as your smile."
"I don't want it," Lilian said, trying to stay grumpy.
Allesio picked up a cookie in his hand. "Why is it, I wonder, that she refuses us?" He turned to another cookie in his other hand, speaking as if it had a voice. "Are we such bad cookies?"
He brought both cookies to Lilian's face, speaking dramatically. "If the sweetest girl in the world won't take a bite, we might just shed a tear or two."
Then he playfully shook one of the cookies. "See? We'll cry rivers of crumbs if you won't taste us!"
Lilian couldn't hold back her laughter. She picked up one of the cookies, smiling. "Who said I won't eat you?"
"Rejoice, brothers!" Allesio said, wiggling the remaining cookie. "She will taste our sweetness after all!"
"How was your mission?" Lilian asked, her tone softening.
"I'll tell you," Allesio whispered, his eyes glimmering, "if you let me rest in the cradle of your lap."
"I'm not letting you lay on my lap," Lilian teased, trying to resist.
Allesio lowered his head dramatically, sitting in mock despair.
"I'm kidding," Lilian laughed. "You know my lap is only for you."
In an instant, Allesio laid his head on her lap. She was caught off guard by his suddenness, but she smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead.
They talked, their voices weaving through the quiet garden as the sky turned shades of orange and pink. Hours slipped by unnoticed.
"It's getting late," Lilian said softly, regret in her voice.
"Must you go so soon?" Allesio asked, his voice a gentle plea.
"It's getting dark," she murmured. "Father will scold me if I'm late."
"Then marry me," Allesio whispered, his words like a breeze through autumn leaves. "Let's not part at dusk, let's end the waiting and meet each dawn side by side."
"Not now," Lilian said, though her voice trembled.
"Why not now, my love?" Allesio's voice was gentle but edged with longing.
"There are… problems in the palace," Lilian said, her words slow with hesitation. "I don't think now is the time."
"And besides," she added softly, "Father wouldn't approve of our marriage yet."
"Yes," Allesio sighed, his voice tinged with sadness. "He sees the royal family as a kingdom of pride and wealth."
"Don't say that of my father," Lilian said, her voice sharp but filled with affection.
Allesio lowered his head, the weight of unspoken words pulling him down.
"Don't worry," Lilian said, her voice steady and comforting. "I'm not going anywhere. I am yours, and always will be."
A smile broke across Allesio's face, a flicker of hope.
Lilian rose to leave, her steps soft and reluctant. Allesio watched her go, his heart full of longing and love.
Lilian is the daughter of a respected merchant in the Eryndor Kingdom. He is an honest, hardworking man who wishes only the best for his daughter. He believes the royal family stands for pride and wealth, a world he doesn't want his daughter caught in. This makes Lilian's love for Allesio bittersweet, as she cannot bring herself to tell her father of their relationship.
Later that night…
"Did you call for me, Father?" Allesio asked, stepping quietly into the King's chamber.
"Yes, come in," the King replied softly.
Allesio entered and closed the door behind him.
"This is my room," the King said, his voice echoing with a quiet nostalgia. "Well, you know it well enough… You've been sleeping here ever since your mother was killed."
"Did you find out who killed her?" Allesio asked, his voice low, tinged with hope.
"No," the King said, his eyes falling to the floor, shadows crossing his face.
After a moment's silence, he continued. "The reason I called you here is to show you something."
The King moved to the bookshelf and shifted a volume aside, revealing a hidden passageway behind it.
"Come this way," he said, stepping inside. Allesio followed.
They descended into a chamber, lined with shelves stacked high with books, maps, and ancient scrolls. The air was heavy with the scent of parchment and ink.
"This room holds the heart of our kingdom's secrets," the King said. "Our economy, our confidential plans, our spies, trade routes—everything."
"Why are you showing me this?" Allesio asked, his brows furrowing.
"Because one day, you will take my place," the King said, his voice steady. "You will rule this kingdom."
"Don't tell me you're dying," Allesio said, panic flashing in his eyes. "Don't leave me like Mother did. I can't lose you too."
The King let out a quiet laugh, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm not dying just yet, you foolish child. I still have enough strength to fight a few more battles."
But beneath his brave words, Allesio could sense it—the fear in his father's voice, the weight of burdens unspoken. It wasn't just the kingdom at risk; there were darker truths lurking.
Allesio's chest tightened. He wondered if his father knew something he wasn't sharing, perhaps about the traitor, or something even more dangerous.
"Even if you can't fight, Aamon and I will fight for you," Allesio said firmly. "We just need you to be with us."
The King's stern face softened, pride and love flickering in his gaze.
"What will you do when you find your mother's killer?" the King asked quietly.
"I'll kill him with my own hands," Allesio said, his jaw tightening, fire burning in his eyes.
The King shook his head slowly. "Then you're not ready to be king."
"A king must always stay calm. He must know forgiveness, even for his own killer. If you can't find it in your heart to forgive, you will never be a good king."
"I know I can't be the best king like you," Allesio said, his voice cracking with emotion. "But I'll never forgive those who try to hurt the people I love."
The King rested a heavy hand on Allesio's shoulder.
"Remember, my son," he said softly, "anger is the root of all sin."
"Someday, you will understand it" The king said
At midnight…The palace was quiet, bathed in moonlight. Only a few guards patrolled the corridors, their footsteps echoing softly against the stone.
Aamon stirred from his sleep, restless. He decided to take a walk, hoping the cool air would help him settle back into slumber. As he wandered through the silent halls, his eyes caught a shadow slipping quietly towards the basement. His curiosity piqued, Aamon silently followed, his footsteps light.
He descended into the dimly lit basement, the air cool and damp. Voices echoed from behind a partially open door. He crouched near the entrance, his ears straining to catch the conversation. The voices were unmistakable—Tharil, Guard Commander Tharok, and a few others he didn't recognize.
"Why didn't that bastard kill those two?" Tharil's voice hissed with fury.
"I told you to give that bastard extra gold," an unfamiliar voice replied, a sneer in its tone. "That greedy fool doesn't do extra work without more pay."
"That idiot even let those two escape with the scroll," Tharil spat.
"Calm down," Tharok said, trying to soothe the heated air. "We'll deal with him when we see him again."
Tharil's breathing slowed, his anger cooling. "Have you hired assassins for our plan to kill the king?" he asked, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
"No one dares to take that risk," Tharok admitted, his tone low and grim.
"Then we'll hire someone from outside the empire," Tharil said, a smirk forming on his lips.
"But we're short on funds," the unknown voice interjected.
"Leave the money to me," Tharil said with a dark grin. "I'll get you as much as you need from the royal treasury."
Aamon's heart pounded in his chest. "So these are the traitors…" He stepped into the room, his voice cutting through the conspirators' murmurs.
"So, you're the traitor lurking in the palace."
Everyone froze. The unknown man turned, revealing himself as a mere soldier, his face pale.
"When did he get here?" the soldier stammered.
"The moment you started planning the king's assassination," Aamon said, his voice cold and resolute.
"All of you are coming with me to face the king."
Suddenly, a cold voice whispered from behind him. "My, my, having fun without me?"
Aamon froze as the masked man materialized behind him, his presence like a shadow in the air. "When did he get here?" Aamon's senses screamed, but he had felt nothing.
"Dark magic: Mana Drain."
In an instant, Aamon's strength was ripped from him. His limbs turned to lead, his vision blurred. The last thing he saw was the masked man's calm, calculating gaze before everything went dark.