His thoughts drifted to the forest.
The mercenaries who had attacked Reloua.
He had been careful. He could not showcase his true strength in front of her—not yet. If he had unleashed the full extent of his Warrior Route, the fight would have ended in seconds. But such a display would have raised questions. Suspicion. Fear.
So he had held back.
Luckily, Reloua had never mentioned the wound he received from one of the mercenaries. If she had pressed the issue, she would have noticed that it had never bothered him. The pain had been insignificant. His body, conditioned through Dark Path rituals, had healed far faster than a normal human's.
But something else lingered in his mind.
The mercenaries had been Third Grade Initiates.
All of them.
That was significant. It meant the organization behind them had access to mystical knowledge. They were not common thugs or hired blades—they were practitioners. Initiates who had walked the spiritual path far enough to gain advantages over ordinary soldiers.
Which meant the organization was well-funded. Well-hidden. And likely connected to one of the Great Families.
The gold coins he had found on Karat's corpse—the traitor—had been minted in Ace, not the Gold Land.
That detail gnawed at him.
Why would Ace be involved in an assassination attempt on a princess of the Gold Land?
It was information worth investigating. Something he should mention to Reloua.
Teleu's thoughts returned to his own advancement.
He was ready to ascend to Tier 4 in the Warrior Route. Ready to become an Elite Warrior. The requirements were clear: bind a named entity, complete a grand ritual, establish a spiritual anchor.
He had already begun preparations.
But his other two Routes lagged behind.
Walking the Light Path was slower. More difficult. The entities demanded patience, discipline, moral integrity. There were no shortcuts, no quick pacts sealed in blood and shadow. Advancement required genuine understanding, genuine transformation.
And so, despite his progress as a warrior, Teleu remained a Second Grade Apprentice Scholar and a Third Grade Apprentice Ruler.
He was stuck at Tier 2 in both Routes.
And he needed to advance.
If he was to reclaim his throne, if he was to outmaneuver the political forces arrayed against him, he could not remain stagnant. He needed the Scholar's clarity to decode the conspiracies unfolding around him. He needed the Ruler's authority to command loyalty and inspire trust.
But progressing along the Light Path was not easy.
It required preparation. Ritual. Communion with ancestors. Meditation in sacred places. Trials that tested not his strength, but his character.
And time was not a luxury he possessed in abundance.
Teleu exhaled slowly and stood.
The morning light filtered through the small window, casting long shadows across the room.
He would need to be strategic. He would need to find opportunities—sacred sites in the Gold Land, moments of stillness amidst the chaos, allies who could guide him in the paths he had neglected.
But for now, he had a role to play.
A fugitive prince. A protector of a princess. A guest in a foreign palace.
He straightened his robes, his expression settling back into the calm, unreadable mask he wore so well.
And he stepped outside, into the garden, where the day waited.
---
When Teleu stepped out into the garden, the morning air was crisp and cool. Dew clung to the leaves of the carefully tended plants, and the soft rustle of wind through the branches created a quiet symphony that contrasted with the chaos brewing beneath the surface of palace politics.
Reloua stood near a stone bench, her arms crossed, her expression thoughtful. She wore a simple but elegant green robe that complemented the garden's colors, and her dark eyes turned toward Teleu the moment he emerged from the small house.
"You're awake early," she observed, her tone carrying a hint of curiosity.
"Sleep is a luxury I cannot afford," Teleu replied evenly, approaching her with measured steps.
Reloua studied him for a moment, then gestured toward the bench. "Sit. You look like you have something on your mind."
Teleu inclined his head and sat, his posture straight, his hands resting calmly on his knees. Reloua remained standing, watching him with the sharp gaze of someone who had learned not to trust easily.
"I've been thinking about the mercenaries," Teleu began, his voice low and deliberate. "The ones who attacked you in the forest."
Reloua's expression tightened. "What about them?"
"They were not ordinary killers."
"I know that much," she said, a touch of irritation creeping into her tone. "They were trained. Professional. But what does that—"
"They were Third Grade Initiates," Teleu interrupted calmly.
Reloua blinked, surprise flickering across her face. "Initiates? You mean... they walked the mystical paths?"
"All of them," Teleu confirmed. "Every single one of those mercenaries had advanced far enough in their spiritual training to gain an edge over ordinary soldiers. That level of knowledge, that level of organization—it doesn't come cheap. It doesn't come from common thugs."
Reloua's jaw tightened. She lowered herself onto the bench beside him, her arms still crossed. "So someone with significant resources hired them."
"Yes. But there's more."
Teleu reached into his robe and produced a small, worn gold coin. He held it up between his fingers, letting the morning light catch its surface.
"This," he said, "was on Karat's body. The traitor."
Reloua leaned forward, squinting at the coin. Her eyes widened slightly. "That's... that's not a Gold Land coin."
"No," Teleu said quietly. "It's from Ace."
Silence fell between them, heavy and thick.
Reloua's mind was clearly racing, her sharp intellect piecing together implications. "Ace," she repeated slowly. "Why would Ace be involved in an attempt on my life?"
"That," Teleu said, "is the question we need to answer."
He tucked the coin back into his robe and turned to face her fully. "You suspect your stepmother. Cynthia Sichom."
Reloua stiffened. "How did you—"
"It's obvious," Teleu said, his tone matter-of-fact. "She has motive. She has access. She has influence. And from what I've observed, she's not the kind of woman who hesitates to remove obstacles."
Reloua's gaze hardened. "She's a snake. She's always been a snake. But proving it is another matter entirely."
"Exactly," Teleu said. "And that's why suspicion alone won't help us."
He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping into a more strategic cadence—the tone of someone who had thought this through carefully.
"Even if Cynthia Sichom is behind all of this, she won't leave any trace of her actions. No direct connection. No orders in her handwriting. No witnesses who can testify against her."
Reloua frowned. "Then how do we—"
"We start from the bottom," Teleu said, cutting her off. "And we work our way to the top."
Reloua's eyes narrowed, but there was a flicker of respect in them now. "What do you mean?"
"Cynthia doesn't act alone," Teleu explained. "She has stewards. Servants. Ministers. Confidants. People who carry out her orders, who move the pieces on her behalf. These people are the ones who make mistakes. Who leave trails. Who can be traced."
He gestured toward the palace in the distance. "You need to send for people you trust—discreet people—to search for anyone in the palace who has access to Ace coins or connections to the Ace Kingdom. Governors. Ministers. Servants. Stewards. Maids. Anyone who might be acting as a go-between."
Reloua absorbed this, her expression shifting from skepticism to calculation.
"And you think we'll find something?"
"I think," Teleu said, "that someone as ambitious as Cynthia Sichom doesn't operate in a vacuum. She relies on networks. And networks can be unraveled."
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle.
"Start by tailing the servants of the stewards connected to Cynthia. Watch where they go. Who they speak to. What they carry. Don't confront them. Don't arrest them. Just observe."
Reloua was silent for a long moment, her gaze distant. Then she nodded slowly. "That's... actually clever."
"It's logical," Teleu corrected. "And logic is a weapon your enemies often underestimate."