The World He Shaped

As Aldric rode through the city streets, his mind remained sharp, already piecing together his next move. Information was key—without it, he was just another blind man groping in the dark. He needed to know more about the fugitives, their backgrounds, and the truth behind Lord Cedric's claims. If they were criminals, then turning them over would secure favor with the Royal Court. If they weren't… then they could prove far more valuable.

But there was a problem.

Aldric had no men of his own—not ones he could trust implicitly, nor the resources to uncover what he needed. Every noble worth their title had spies, informants, and loyal retainers. Aldric had none. Years of disappointing his father had left him isolated from the family's inner workings, an outsider within his own house.

Aldric frowned, his fingers tapping lightly against his knee. He needed a way in—someone with connections, someone discreet.

Then a thought struck him.

"Carl," Aldric called to the driver.

The coachman flicked the reins but tilted his head slightly in acknowledgment. "Yes, my lord?"

"Change of destination. Take me to my brother's estate."

Carl didn't hesitate, merely nodded and redirected the horses. "As you wish, my lord."

Aldric though. I have no choice but to move my plans forward.

The carriage veered onto a different road, the wheels kicking up fresh snow as they moved through the wintry streets.

Unbeknownst to Aldric, two separate groups trailed behind him.

The first, two men dressed in white cloaks to blend with the snow, moved silently through the city. They were Lord Cedric's messengers, their sharp gazes never leaving the carriage ahead. One of them murmured to the other, "Send word to Lord Cedric."

The second man nodded, quickly scrawling a message onto parchment before releasing a small black messenger bird into the sky. The raven flapped its wings, disappearing into the cold expanse above.

But the bird never made it to its destination.

From the shadows of the city's rooftops, a slender figure intercepted it mid-flight, snatching it from the air with effortless precision. The bird remained unharmed, fluttering slightly in the figure's grasp.

A smirk curled across the shadowy figure's lips as they unfolded the message and read its contents.

"Pathetic," a low voice muttered.

Not far behind, five other figures in white cloaks stood hidden among the trees at the city's edge, their presence nearly undetectable against the snowfall. One of them, the leader of the unit, watched the intercepted bird with mild amusement.

"They know nothing," he said with a quiet chuckle, handing the parchment back "At least… not yet."

He gave a silent signal, and the slender figure obeyed, carefully tucking the parchment back into place before releasing the pigeon once more. The bird continued its journey, none the wiser.

With that, the white-cloaked figures melted back into the shadows, their movements swift and precise as they followed Aldric's carriage through the city.

At last, the carriage reached the gates of Lucien's estate.

Aldric stepped out, brushing the snow from his cloak. As he approached the entrance, the grand double doors opened, and there stood Lucien Ravensbourne, a knowing smirk already playing on his lips.

"Well, well," Lucien drawled, arms crossed as he leaned against the doorframe. "To what do I owe the pleasure, dear brother? You look like a man about to make a very interesting request."

Aldric exhaled, steeling himself.

"That depends," he said. "Are you in the mood for a bit of trouble?"

Lucien chuckled, his emerald-green eyes gleaming with amusement. "Oh, Aldric. You should know by now—that's the only mood I ever have."

With a small, unreadable smile, Aldric stepped inside.

And the game truly began.