The first week in Vane Manor was a masterclass in noble politics. Kaelen was given a small room on the third floor, overlooking the gardens. He was issued proper armor—silver-plated steel with the Vane tree on the breastplate—and a Tier 2 sword, enchanted to never dull. He wore it at his hip and played the part of the loyal sworn sword.
But each night, he slipped out through the servants' entrance and into the sewers beneath Thornwick. There, in his hidden cistern, he cultivated. The battle with the avatar had given him a sliver of corrupted essence, which the Shard had absorbed. It tasted of rot and ancient hunger. He integrated it into his core, and felt a shift—a deeper understanding of essence manipulation.
You are close to Tier 4, the Shard whispered. One more push. One more significant source of essence.
On the third day, Caspian summoned Kaelen to the training yard. The heir wanted to spar. Kaelen obliged, holding back to appear as a strong Tier 2. He let Caspian win two bouts out of three. The heir was pleased, believing he had found an equal.
"You're good," Caspian said, breathing hard. "Better than any of my father's household knights."
"You flatter me, my lord."
"I don't flatter. I observe." Caspian sat on a bench and gestured for Kaelen to join him. "Tell me something, Voss. What do you think of the kingdom?"
Kaelen considered. "I think it is small, my lord. Surrounded by larger powers who would swallow it if they could."
Caspian nodded. "My father says the same. The Veridian Empire to the east is Tier 6 at its strongest. We are Tier 4 at best. If they march, we fall."
"Then Thornwick must grow stronger. Or find allies."
"Allies cost money. Money comes from the silver mines. The mines are under constant threat." Caspian glanced around. "My father has done what he can, but the king… the king is a fool."
Kaelen filed that away. Discord between the duke and the king. Useful.
"What would you do, Voss, if you had the king's authority?"
"I would consolidate power in those who can wield it. The nobles who rule well, not those who inherited their positions. And I would invest in common soldiers—the Tier 1 men who hold the line while lords sit in comfort."
Caspian stared, then smiled. "You think like a reformer."
"I think like a survivor, my lord."
That night, Kaelen wrote a letter on scrap leather and hid it beneath a loose stone in the gardens. It contained observations: the duke's schedule, guard rotations, weak points in the manor's defensive ward. He did not know who would find it. But the Shard had taught him to prepare for contingencies.
On the fifth day, the duke summoned Kaelen to his study again. This time, others were present: Magister Elara of the Thornwick Circle, a Tier 3 mage; a man in the gray uniform of the king's secret police; and Lady Seraphine Vane, Caspian's sister, returned from the Free Cities.
"Voss," the duke said, "the Magister has questions about the avatar."
The mage stepped forward. Her essence tasted of ozone and old stone. "Describe the creature. Every detail."
Kaelen complied. He described the avatar's roots, its faces, its hollow eyes. He described the corrupted essence, the core in its chest. The mage listened, her eyes never leaving his face.
"You are Tier 2," she said finally. "A commoner. And you survived close combat with a Tier 3 avatar."
"I was lucky, Magister."
"Luck is not a cultivation method." She turned to the duke. "He is not lying about the avatar. But there is something about him. Something hidden."
Kaelen's heart quickened. His concealment was perfect—Tier 3 hidden as Tier 2. But this mage was perceptive. She had sensed a secret.
"I have nothing to hide," he said calmly. "If you wish to examine my core, I will submit to any test."
It was a gamble. A direct examination would reveal the Shard. But he doubted the mage would go that far without the duke's explicit command.
The duke waved a hand. "Enough. The boy saved my son's life. That is sufficient. Document your concerns, Magister."
The mage's lips tightened, but she bowed and left. Lady Seraphine remained. She looked at Kaelen with sharp eyes.
"My father trusts you," she said. "I do not. But I am willing to be convinced."
Kaelen bowed. "I live to serve, my lady."
She snorted. "We'll see."