Lorian stood in the center of his chambers silent. The morning sun was spilling across the floor, yet he felt as though he were standing in a freezing void. He could not speak; he could only look at his father, Lord Elmsworth, with wide, dumbfounded eyes. The silence in the room was heavy, suffocating.
"It is truly disappointing, my child," Elmsworth continued. He didn't shout at his son, but rather spoke to him in a low voice sipped with disappointment, "I had high expectations for you. After you woke from your coma, I felt you were like me,….no, I dared to hope you were better than me. More adaptable. Sharper. But at the first sign of a shadow, you buckled. You collapsed under a pressure so slight it wouldn't even crack a common merchant."
Seraphina moved toward her husband, her face was etched with maternal concern. She opened her mouth to plead for her son, to ask for mercy for her dear child who had clearly been through an ordeal. But Elmsworth's gaze didn't waver. He held up a hand in a commanding gesture that froze her in place.
"Do not shield him, Seraphina," Elmsworth said coldly, "He is a Prince. He is destined to rule this great Kingdom when I am gone. The world does not give mercy to rulers who 'feel too much.' And yet, here he is, paralyzed by a letter and a few shady movements in the dark. Really, Lorian? Is this the King you intend to be?"
Elmsworth turned his gaze back to his son. Lorian's earlier hopelessness was beginning to curdle, replaced by a stinging, hot mask of shame and regret.
"You know, my child," the Lord of Veridia said, pacing slowly, "the poor and the powerless believe that life gets easier as you climb the mountain of gold and influence. They think power is a cushion. But that is far from the truth. Power and Wealth- both are fickle, gaseous things. They escape you the moment you loosen your grip even a fraction. The Crown gives you authority, yes, but always remember, with great power comes…"
"Great responsibility," Lorian blurted out spontaneously.
The phrase hit him like a bolt from his past life as Adrian. It was a famous quote, a bit of pop-culture wisdom from a world of skyscrapers and movies, but in this stone room, under the weight of a real crown, it felt like a holy commandment.
"Huh!" Elmsworth raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised by the interruption. He paused his pacing. "Well... you are not wrong. I was going to say 'Greater Challenges,' but your phrasing is actually more profound. It is better. Perhaps there is a spark of a King in you yet."
He straightened his tunic and looked toward the door, "We are leaving you alone for now. You decide what to do with your day. You can spend it moping around and wallowing in self-pity, as you have been doing since yesterday, or you can find out what to do with this information. But don't worry, Lorian. As long as your father is alive, I will find a way out of this Bistro mess, so that you can enjoy the luxury of staying grumpy and bitter."
He beckoned to his wife, "Come, Seraphina. Let's go. The Prince needs his solitude."
Lorian watched them walk out, the heavy oak door clicking shut with a finality that felt like hell. They were disappointed. Deeply. And that hurt more than any physical blow Lorian had ever taken. In his past life, when he had lost everything, he often felt he had bitten off more than he could chew. That same toxic thought returned now. Maybe I'm not a Prince. Maybe I'm just Adrian, a failure wearing a dead man's skin.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Lorian hissed to the empty room. He shook his head violently and slapped his own cheeks hard until they stung red, "Get it together. Stop wallowing."
He needed a brainstorm. He needed his people.
Lorian summoned a meeting in Jax's chamber in the Restoration Wing. The physician tried to protest, citing the need for quiet, but one look at Lorian's hard, uncompromising expression silenced the man. It was, as Lorian argued, good for a warrior's recovery to feel like he was back in the fight.
Gathered around Jax's bed were the pillars of Lorian's inner circle: Eldred Alsnow, Rylan Fartom, Kaelen Strong, Zara Sunstreak and Elara Monez, and of course, Jax Nightclaw himself. The only one missing was Grisel, for obvious reason.
On Jax's request, Zara uncorked the bottle of rare ale Grisel had gifted them. They passed it around, drinking a silent, bitter toast to Jax's recovery and the trials to come. Then, the discussion turned toward the Void-Mirror.
"Let's look at the board," Lorian began, "First, we can assume it is futile for Bianca to contact the Great Houses of Veridia. The raids broke their backs. Their leaders are in cells or, like Cassian Throne, they've vanished into the shadows. Bianca won't find an army inside these walls."
"Which means her hope lies outside our borders," Jax rasped.
"But who?" Kaelen asked, "The seven city-states are officially aligned against piracy. No Governor or Lord would openly support the Bistros now that their complicity is public record."
"Only the Pirates themselves," Rylan Fartom noted, "or the Kingpin who organized the trade to begin with. The Void-Mirror wasn't bought for a chat with just anyone; it was bought to contact the Mastermind."
Rylan pointed to the map of the cluster. "Here is the catch. The trial is in five days. If the Kingpin was nearby, like in Port Azure, Solara, or Valoria; Bianca wouldn't need a Void-Mirror. A messenger on a fast horse could reach any of those cities in one or two days. You don't destroy a priceless artifact for a message you can deliver by hand."
"He's right," Lorian agreed. His mind was racing, "You use the Mirror when the distance is too great for a horse. This narrows our search for the villain significantly. The Kingpin must be in Sylfia, Glimmerfall, or Aethelgard."
However, Eldred Alsnow did not like the direction of the talk. He shifted in his chair, looking a bit disturbed, "This is all speculation. I cannot accept that Bianca Bistro is in league with these monsters. She is a girl of high birth, caught in a tragedy not of her making. To suggest she is calling the 'Kingpin' of a pirate ring is… it is preposterous."
Rylan turned on him, "Preposterous? She was spotted in the Sinks, Eldred! She bought a forbidden crystal under the counter. Does that sound like a girl innocent of the world?"
The two began to argue, their voices rising until Elara stepped between them, and mediating in her calm voice. "Perhaps there is a middle ground," she suggested, "What if a Bistro aide- someone Bianca trusts- offered her this connection? Imagine her desperation. Her father is going to be executed. Her house is falling. If someone offered her a 'straw' to save her family, she would grab it, regardless of who was holding the other end."
Alsnow subsided, though he looked grudging. He wanted to believe in the 'Angelic Bianca' he had known years ago.
"Next," Lorian said, cutting through the tension, "What is the move? If she makes the call, what is the Kingpin's response?"
"Bribing the judges," Zara said. "Blackmail," Jax added.
"But we already considered that," Kaelen countered, "The judges for this trial are hand-picked for their neutrality. What if it's more violent? What if they incite a riot on the day of the trial? They could try to rescue the Baron from the courthouse steps while the crowd screams for blood."
"Worse," Jax whispered, his golden eyes were glowing in the dim light, "What if it's both? A riot inside the city to keep the Throne Guards occupied, while a full-scale Pirate fleet appears in the harbor. The leadership would be trapped in the courthouse, the city would be in flames, and the harbor would be defenseless."
A cold shiver ran down everyone's spine. The danger suddenly felt suffocating. It felt as if, in their attempt to trap the Bistros, they had accidentally caught themselves in a much larger, more lethal web.
"I'll share this with Commander Lucien," Lorian decided, "The Throne Guards need to be prepared for a two-front war. We cannot be caught looking at the courthouse while the sea turns red with pirate sails."
As the meeting broke up, Lorian felt a strange, intoxicating sensation. The heavy weight that had been crushing his chest since his father's lecture hadn't disappeared, but it had simply become lighter, like a burden he was finally strong enough to carry. He felt smart. He felt worthy. He felt like he could tackle anything the world or heaven could throw at him.
As he was leaving, Alsnow caught his arm, "Lorian, please. Bianca... she wouldn't do this. My opinion hasn't changed. She is not a conspirator."
Lorian looked at his old tutor. He could see the man's sincerity, but he could also see his blindness. Alsnow is not trustworthy, Lorian realized with a jolt of cold clarity. Not because he is evil, but because he is weak to his own nostalgia.
Lorian nodded politely. He said nothing, but a mental line was already drawn in his mind. He would not include Alsnow in the crucial meetings again. In the game of kings, a man who cannot see the enemy because they have a pretty face is a liability he could no longer afford.