The atmosphere inside Yerel’s private study was always stifling, but this afternoon, the quiet scratch of a fountain pen against parchnt made the silence feel heavier than usual.
Yerel sat behind the massive desk. He didn’t look up as the doors closed, signaling the arrival of his aide.
Karson entered quietly, carrying himself with the usual strict posture and blank expression. He stopped exactly three paces from the desk, bringing one hand to his chest as he offered a flawless, practiced bow.
"Your Highness," Karson began, his voice flat and professional. "The surveillance report on the Solaric delegation has been finalized."
Yerel finally set his pen down, leaning back into his leather chair. He laced his fingers together, a faint, lazy smile playing on his lips as he looked up at his aide. "Ah, Karson. Let’s hear it then. What have our esteed foreign guests been up to?"
"Crown Prince Gillian spent his morning coordinating with the ministry of trade, as expected," Karson reported smoothly, pulling a small leather notebook from his breast pocket. "However, the movents of his sister are more notable. Yesterday afternoon, she was tracked to the Valtrane estate in the capital."
Yerel raised an eyebrow, the lazy smile sharpening into sothing a bit more calculated. "Oh? The Valtrane estate? Are she and the Duke’s household friends now?"
"That cannot be said for sure, Your Highness," Karson replied, closing the notebook with a soft snap. "But they are certainly not hostile toward one another. Of course, given the current political climate, they cannot afford to be openly hostile anyway."
Yerel humd, his gaze drifting toward the window as he processed the information. "Fine. Keep a tight eye on them. Have our people monitor every carriage that leaves the Palace. I want to know if Gillian tries to follow his sister’s example."
"Understood, Your Highness. It will be done," Karson said, bowing his head slightly to indicate the order had been registered.
He made a subtle movent to step back, prepared to excuse himself and execute the command, but Yerel’s voice cut through the quiet room before he could take a single step.
"Then... so, Karson."
Karson paused, his body freezing mid-motion. He smoothly adjusted his stance, looking back at the prince. "Yes, Your Highness?"
"I just rembered sothing," Yerel said softly, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the polished wood of his desk. His sharp eyes locked onto Karson’s face, watching for even the slightest flicker of emotion. "You and that Duke’s aide... you know each other quite well, don’t you?"
Karson didn’t blink. Not a single muscle in his jaw tightened. He kept his hands clasped behind his back, maintaining the pristine, unyielding aura of an imperial aide.
"Of course, Your Highness," Karson answered, his tone dripping with standard administrative professionalism. "We both work as aides for our respective masters. Given that you and Duke Valtrane have been fierce rivals for god knows how long, our paths cross out of sheer necessity. It is simply a matter of managing the friction between the two of you."
Yerel let out a soft chuckle, a low sound that carried a dangerous edge. The smile on his face widened, though his eyes remained entirely cold. "I know you know that’s not what I ant, Karson."
Karson t the Crown Prince’s gaze directly, his expression remaining an absolute fortress. "What did you an then, Your Highness?"
"You used to be friends," Yerel stated plainly, dropping the playful facade entirely. "True friends. Long before either of you wore the uniform of a chief aide."
"Yes," Karson replied, his voice dropping a fraction of its formal weight, though it remained steady. "Pretty much like you and Duke Valtrane used to be."
The comparison hit the room like a physical blow. Yerel’s smile vanished, his features hardening into a stern, royal mask that demanded imdiate submission.
"Right," Yerel said. "But Zarius and I don’t have that kind of ’relationship’."
Karson didn’t bow his head. Instead, he gave Yerel a long, heavy look, a silent, intense stare that lingered a second too long for a servant addressing his master.
Yerel watched him for a beat, the tension in the room stretching until it felt like a tightly wound string ready to snap. Then, surprisingly, the Crown Prince let out a breathy laugh, the heavy malice dissipating as quickly as it had arrived.
"That glare is new," Yerel teased, tilting his head with a smirk.
"I am not glaring, Your Highness," Karson countered instantly, his voice returning to its usual calm and respectful tone. "And there is no relationship to speak of other than the fact that we were friends at the academy back then. It is a piece of past history, nothing more."
Yerel picked up his fountain pen again, twirling it idly between his fingers. "If you forget that I am the Crown Prince, Karson, let remind you. I get information very easily. The whispers of the palace always find their way to my desk, whether they pertain to foreign princesses or the personal lives of my own inner circle."
Karson took a half-step forward, closing the distance between himself and the desk. He lowered his head in a neat, respectful bow, his clear voice echoing softly through the room.
"Did Your Highness happen to forget that information can often be wrong?" Karson asked, his tone laced with a sharp, respectful logic. "Or perhaps it is rely a rumor designed by the lower courts to create distrust within your palace. If Your Highness truly wishes to know the nature of my past, it is always better to get the truth directly from the source itself rather than relying on the whispers of spies."
Karson straightened back up, his eyes locking onto Yerel’s with absolute certainty. "My old friendship with Flio should not bother Your Highness. It will never, under any circumstances, affect my loyalty to you or the throne of Auzelian. My duty is to the Crown Prince’s palace, and that duty is absolute."
Yerel stared at him, searching the aide’s face for any sign of deceit, any hidden allegiance to the Valtrane faction. For a long, silent mont, the two n, master and servant, prince and confidant, simply asured one another.
Finally, Yerel let out a quiet sigh, waving his hand dismissively. "Well... fine. See to it that the Solaric siblings are watched. You are dismissed."
"Thank you, Your Highness. I shall take my leave," Karson said. He stepped back, executed a flawless turn on his heel, and walked toward the exit.
The doors opened and closed quietly behind Karson, and the room fell back into silence.
Left utterly alone in the room, the remaining traces of amusent completely vanished from Yerel’s face. He set his pen down on the desk, his eyes dark and hollow as he stared intently at the closed doors.
The prince who had been joking monts ago suddenly looked distant and terrifyingly calm. He kept staring at the spot where Karson had stood monts ago, his expression growing colder as the afternoon shadows slowly stretched across the floor.
"Just a friend on the wrong side, huh, Karson?"
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