"Is that so?..." He narrowed his eyes. "I saw one of the n who ca with us by the carriage being dragged by guards earlier."
"When?" Zayden frowned. How—and why—had Eiran even seen that?
The boy quickly covered his mouth, realizing he might have said sothing he shouldn’t have. His gaze darted back and forth between his two fathers.
"W-Well," he stamred. "I followed you both—"
Zayden’s frown deepened.
"I told you to stay in the palace, Eiran."
"Don’t scold him," Ren interrupted softly, patting Eiran’s back. He turned toward the boy with a gentle smile. "And you, Eiran, you should listen to your dad when he says sothing. That place isn’t sowhere a child should be."
"But I’m all grown up now," Eiran grumbled, slumping deeper into his chair.
Ren sighed quietly. His son always insisted he was grown, but Ren knew better—the boy was still a child at heart, no matter how mature his appearance might seem.
"Sit properly, Eiran," the silver-haired man said, and his son did as told, although he didn’t look pleased about it.
Zayden rose from his chair with a faint thud and walked over to Eiran. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.
"I’m sorry I scolded you," he said gently. "But I don’t want you to see the horrors that exist in this world. Alright?"
Eiran pouted, narrowing his eyes. "But—"
"I need to return to Enzo’s room," Zayden cut in, his tone calm but heavy. "I’m certain His Imperial Highness is exhausted from all this."
His gaze drifted to Ren, whose fingers tightened around the fork.
"Certainly," Ren murmured, his voice lower than before.
As Zayden walked past him, he hesitated. For a mont, he wanted to reach out—to wrap his arms around Ren, to obtain so sort of comfort—but he stopped himself.
I will just do it once all this is over...
He told himself. If he held Ren now, he knew he wouldn’t be able to let go. Besides, the man’s injuries hadn’t healed completely—and Zayden couldn’t allow himself to forget that his friend was still fighting between life and death.
"Will you... join once you are done?.." he asked hesitantly.
Ren blinked, slightly surprised. He had thought Zayden wouldn’t want him there. Still, it wasn’t sothing he could refuse—not when the General was most likely suffering as he watched his friend endure such pain.
"Surely," he replied softly.
***
After dinner, Ren held Eiran’s hand, walking the boy to his bedroom.
Eiran spoke nonstop about how he had hidden in the last row to watch the trial. Ren’s stomach twisted at the mory—Charles’s cold expression, Enzo’s trembling form, the way the oga had kept his pain hidden behind a bright smile all this ti.
Ren’s heart sank just thinking about it.
"Papa! Is that man a bad person? I saw people pull him harshly sowhere."
Ren nodded slightly. "He is." Then, his brows furrowed as he looked down at his son. "Don’t tell you followed them to the dungeon."
Eiran averted his gaze nervously. "I-I... was just curious..."
"Eiran," Ren sighed, lowering himself to his knees to et the boy’s eyes. "You shouldn’t go there. Did anyone see you?"
The child quickly shook his head.
Ren tilted his head slightly. How could no one have noticed him? Was Eiran lying to avoid punishnt? Or had a guard already caught and scolded him? He decided not to ask.
"Alright. You did it once, but don’t—"
"I heard that man say to another that his plan to end General Zayden failed," Eiran interrupted, his expression unreadable. "I... I couldn’t ignore it... So I followed him. Then I saw him talking to another man about it. They both planned it. Papa, is that how you got injured?"
Ren froze, montarily speechless. His son... had grown up too fast. He understood things Ren wished he wouldn’t—not yet.
Swallowing hard, Ren forced a soft smile. "You misheard it."
"No, Papa! I really heard that man in a white robe say that to the tan-skinned man."
Ren’s mind stirred. There were a few tan-skinned n around Zayden, but the only one who could possibly wish harm upon him was Duke Danman.
Did Eiran... really see the Duke?
He could only wonder.
"Alright, alright. If you say so, I will believe it. But it’s ti to sleep," he said quickly, rising to his feet and guiding the boy to his room.
Once Eiran was asleep, Ren quietly left the room, shutting the door gently behind him. Yet, he couldn’t shake off the boy’s words. Eiran had no reason to lie or invent such a story.
Biting his lip, Ren furrowed his brows.
"Does this an the Duke and High Priest Charles were the ones who planned to—?" His breath hitched at the thought of Zayden being hurt, his blood boiling in fury.
Clenching his fists tightly, he turned on his heel and began walking toward the dungeon. He didn’t know how he would get in, but one thing was certain—he needed answers.
The man who had tried to harm Zayden... and the one who had a hand in Ilyan’s death—Ren couldn’t let either of them go unpunished.
Hiding behind a large pillar, Ren observed the guards carefully. By the ti he reached the dungeon’s entrance, it was already the second half of the night, aning most were lazily keeping watch, while so had also fallen asleep, backs against the wall.
But how to enter?
Ren’s gaze darted around, trying to find sothing—then an idea lit up in his mind: he could use one of the magic spells he had learned over the years—a sleeping spell.
It would, however, require a lot of mana to put everyone in the entire space to sleep, just to be safe. He had heard the dungeon was almost six thousand square feet. It held all kinds of criminals. The worst ones, however, were kept in a smaller, two-thousand-square-foot prison where murderers and the like were held.
Just then, he noticed a servant carrying two trays of food toward the great dungeon doors.
Ren’s lips curved into a faint, cold smile. He knew exactly what to do and no huge mana drain was even required.
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