...The moment Oliver left the banquet, he immediately manoeuvred to dodge Leston. He was only ten years old and coupled with his small frame, it was rather easy to do.
Leston searched for him in the crowd, but just when he thought he had seen him, Oliver immediately walked up to a group of young noble ladies.
At first, the noble ladies looked at him with question marks on their faces. Oliver, as a prince, did not exactly have a good reputation, especially because he was considered much of a coward and a weak boy who had not unlocked his bloodline. Only moments ago, he was seen crying.
To top it up, Oliver was too far down the line to be considered for the throne.
Truly, there was nothing of worth to be had with him, and everyone knew this.
"Hey there beautiful ladies," Oliver spoke with a polite, but innocent tongue.
The noble women did not mind the compliment, but what he stated next was the really interesting part.
"My big brother, Leston, thinks this enchanting lady is beautiful," he pointed at one of them who was very very 'round' with heavy make-up, and then leaned in a bit as if to whisper, "and wants to see you... Privately."
The young noble ladies gasped in surprise, some blushing at the unexpected confession. The girl in question hesitated, but her friends excitedly encouraged her, whispering about how bold and romantic Leston was.
There was also the fact that Leston was known to be quite the stud.
How do they know? The servants do have a habit of gossiping about certain nefarious affairs to those who would listen.
At just this time, Leston spotted Oliver and charged at him, but the ladies, thinking he was coming for the girl, excitedly moved to block his way, playfully giggling and urging their friend forward.
Leston froze mid-step, realizing the situation. As much as he wanted to grab Oliver, he could not simply brush aside noble ladies without appearing impolite. His face twisted in frustration as he tried to find a way out of this predicament.
His well-practiced 'Royal' smile plastered his face as a brow twitched at his vexation.
Oliver didn't stick around to see how it ended. He seized the opportunity and dodged his way through the guests, slipping out of sight. Once he was safely away, he sighed in relief. Getting into a scuffle with Leston was not something he wanted. According to his memories of the past, it never ended well. Leston was dangerous, and engaging him now was an unnecessary risk.
Now, he had to focus. He needed to find the Alchemist's Seal.
Oliver knew his father was intelligent. There was no way he would keep such an important treasure carelessly. The obvious place would be the treasure vault, but Oliver had learned a lot in his previous life. One thing he had come to understand was that pirates, thieves, and kings all shared surprisingly similar habits—they always kept their most valuable treasures close to their hearts. Some, according to rumours, even slept with their treasures beneath their beds.
With that in mind, Oliver navigated the grand mansion towards his father's study.
The estate was as opulent as he remembered, an architectural masterpiece of marble pillars, towering stained-glass windows, and golden chandeliers that bathed the halls in a soft, ethereal glow. Tapestries depicting the Rich family's lineage adorned the walls, woven with gold and crimson thread, showcasing the mighty warriors and rulers who had come before. The floor beneath him was polished to perfection, reflecting his small form as he moved quickly and silently.
Most, if not all that saw him, including the servants walking about, and doing their jobs ignored him.
Finally, he arrived.
The study doors were massive, carved from dark mahogany and reinforced with bands of shimmering aether-infused metal. However, the true obstacle lay in front of them—a row of guards, each clad in thick, jet-black armour trimmed with silver. Their helmets bore the sigil of the Rich family, and at their sides were spears with faintly glowing tips, crackling subtly with restrained power. Their presence alone made the air feel heavy.
Oliver could barely sense Aether, he never trained in it, but he had a dutiful slave's experience, and even he could tell—these were professionals. Even if he asked politely, they would never let him in.
Nevertheless, he smirked. This was his home. He was no foreigner here.
There were other ways in—ways only someone like him would know.
Slipping away, Oliver made his way into an adjacent room. This room, once upon a time, had actually been his mother's.
Rumors did have it that his mother was a favorite of his father, and that was the only reason the crowned prince tolerated his weakness.
For such rumors, he used to have a lot questions. Was it true? If it was, why was he and his sister without any influence in the royal house? Why did his father look away whenever he and his sister were bullied by the other wives, and their children? And lastly, why did his father do nothing, but watch as his sister suffered so much?
In the past, there were indeed times he had sneaked into this place—a child's curiosity and longing for a mother he never knew.
Oliver's heart beat steadily. There, hidden behind a large decorative tapestry, was one of the many vents built into the mansion for ventilation. Oliver had used these countless times in his childhood—whenever he needed to escape his siblings' torment or simply find a quiet place to sleep.
His small frame made it easy to slip inside.
Carefully, he crawled through the narrow passage, keeping his movements controlled. The metal was cool against his palms, and every slight creak made him pause. He had to be careful—any noise might alert the guards.
Then, suddenly—a wave of energy passed through him.
Oliver's body tensed. He recognized this sensation immediately—an aether detection scan. The guards weren't just standing watch; they were also actively sweeping the area for intruders.
He should have indeed thought about that.
He held his breath, heart pounding. Was this it? Was his mission about to end here?