As he had expected, the news of the count ceremony spread through noble circles like wildfire. By the ti Kai received the official word, it was already old news among the aristocracy. Couriers and envoys from various noble houses flooded into his territory, each bearing the colours of their family crests.
Now, the presence of their emissaries in Veralt has beco a daily headache. Each one demanded attention, their lofty manners and doubtable questions demanding hours of his ti, as they were technically his guests.
The grand halls of the castle bustled with these well-dressed visitors, their voices a constant hum in the background. With so many minor nobles arriving, the inns in the city had filled up quickly, leaving latecors scrambling for even the humblest accommodations. So attempted to sway him into securing rooms within the castle itself, but he had no interest in accommodating their whims any more than necessary.
Invitations piled up on his desk, the elegant wax seals still intact on most. Each scroll was an appeal for private etings and discussions, likely filled with offers or power plays.
He waved them aside, declining each with a polite but firm ssage: he would be focused solely on the count ceremony preparations until it concluded. Instead, he planned to host a banquet after the ceremony, a gathering where he could address everyone at once. It would save him the trouble of navigating their hidden agendas in private settings, at least for a ti.
He found himself sighing more than once throughout the day.
The luxury of managing his territory, expanding its borders, and seeing the fruits of his labour flourish— that was sothing he could appreciate. But the endless parade of noble politics? That was another matter entirely. Yet, this was the reality he had to accept; he was now going to be a count, no longer a solitary figure in the shadows. It was a new ga, and whether he liked it or not, he would play his part.
Still, he couldn't help but wish the nobles would conduct themselves with so asure of grace during their stay. But even that hope was fading as reports trickled in— minor scuffles at the inns, one noble attempting to strong-arm a local rchant, another angered by the "rustic" accommodations. It seed that despite his careful planning, trouble was already brewing.
"I honestly expected nobles to conduct themselves better in soone else's territory, but they don't seem to understand decorum," Kai muttered, looking over at the two people next to him.
Killian and Ansel stood atop the rooftop of the castle's watchtower alongside him, a cold breeze sweeping through the evening air, carrying the distant sounds of a city that refused to sleep.
Below them, the city lights flickered through the haze, a patchwork of lanterns casting warm glows across stone streets and wooden facades. From up here, they could see the nobles' quarters, inns bursting with activity, and the guarded gates of the castle— marking the invisible boundaries between the commoners and the visiting aristocracy.
Killian leaned against the railing, his brows furrowed as he spoke, recounting the latest trouble. "That incident with Gareth turned out to be ssier than we thought. The baron lost his temper, got rough with the kid. We had to release him after a stern warning since he offered an apology and swore he'd pay for the injuries. But he was fuming when I turned down his request to see Gareth punished. He didn't take that well."
Kai's lips ford a thin line. "The baron's got his head too far up his ass. Thinks being a shoddy Mage gives him free rein over everything. But maybe this whole ordeal will be a lesson. Word of it will spread soon enough, and the rest of the nobles might start staying in their rooms, behaving like proper guests instead of acting like they own the place."
Killian gave a small nod, though a shadow of doubt lingered in his eyes. "I'd like to believe that, but I wouldn't hold my breath. The mont they heard about your title, a lot of big nas sent their representatives. All the Dukes have sent soone— except your brother, of course. And Knight Darian's been strutting around in the colours of House Blackwood. The others, though, don't seem like they're here just for the ceremony. Trouble's practically written on their faces."
Kai turned his attention to Ansel, who stood quietly beside them, arms folded, his keen eyes scanning the streets below. "That's why Ansel is here," Kai said.
Kai shifted his focus to Ansel, who had been standing quietly, listening to the exchange. At the ntion of his na, Ansel straightened, a montary stiffness betraying his nerves. He dipped into a bow, his voice steady but a bit tight. "I will do my best, my lord. If they step out of their line, we'll know about it, and inform you the first thing."
Kai chuckled softly, waving a hand in a casual gesture. "Relax, Ansel. When we first t, you were far more reckless, rember?"
Ansel's expression remained serious as he replied, "I can't afford to be careless anymore, not with this kind of responsibility. I'm the head of the Watchers now."
Kai's gaze flickered with a hint of approval as he considered Ansel's words.
The Watchers were a special unit that he had tasked Killian with forming— a covert information network designed to operate within Veralt and eventually across the entire kingdom. Their mission was to gather every scrap of intelligence, from the whispers of nobles in shadowed halls to the rumours drifting through bustling marketplaces. At present, there were only six or seven mbers in the fledgling team, but Kai had ambitious plans to expand their numbers to at least a hundred by the end of the year.
With the growth of his territory, it was becoming more feasible.
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He intended to send them out, using his potions, strategic insights, and leveraging Malden's rchant network, which had already agreed to assist in spreading their reach. It was a slow, thodical process, but once completed, he would have eyes and ears on nearly every corner of the kingdom.
"Responsibility is only given to those I believe can handle it," Kai said, his tone firm. "So, have you run into any problems in the role so far?"
Ansel's mouth twitched into a hint of a smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "It's only been a day in this position, but I've already started conducting interviews and placed the initial recruits around the castle to keep an eye on the nobles. Stealth and quick movent aren't easy skills to find, but we're training with the instructions you provided."
He hesitated for a mont, then added, "If there's one thing... I don't quite know what to do with Gareth. He's been persistent about wanting to join the Watchers."
Kai raised an eyebrow, intrigued. The ntion of Gareth's interest in joining the team was unexpected. But the more he thought, the more it made sense.
His eyes narrowed slightly as he turned to Ansel, who had been standing by with a mix of focus and unease. "Why does it bother you so much?" Kai's tone was calm, but there was an edge of curiosity in it, a desire to understand the undercurrents of Ansel's hesitation.
Ansel hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. The wind tugged at his cloak, revealing the tension in his stance. "It's... because he's an Enforcer, and I'm just... normal," Ansel admitted, his voice barely above a murmur. "Technically, he should be the leader. I'm paperless, no official status." His fingers flexed unconsciously as if reaching for a scroll that didn't exist.
Kai studied him, letting the silence stretch for a mont before responding. "Leadership isn't about power, Ansel. It's about who can guide others, who can see more than just what's in front of them," he explained, his gaze direct. "Gareth might be stronger, but strength alone doesn't make a leader. You've seen the kingdom— the good, the bad, the politics, and the shadows. You know how to navigate that better than most. You're quick on your feet, and you think before you act. That's why you're in charge."
Ansel absorbed the words, his shoulders relaxing slightly, though his brow remained furrowed. He glanced toward the rooftops, the city spreading out below them, a patchwork of stone and life. "I think I understand," he said, nodding slowly. "It's just... strange, thinking I'm in charge of soone like him."
"Gareth's a warrior at heart," Kai continued, his voice steady. "He's good at following orders, and he won't try to undermine you. He knows where his strengths lie, and he respects yours. Trust on this— he wouldn't want to lead this team even if he had the chance."
Ansel's nod beca firr, and so of the uncertainty faded from his expression. "I'll make sure it works out."
Kai's lips curved into a faint smile before he shifted the conversation. "And don't forget, Gareth recently unlocked his elent. Shadow affinity. Rare and difficult to master, but with it, he'll be able to move faster and stay unseen when needed. That'll co in handy for the team's work."
As Kai spoke, his attention drifted to the scene unfolding below. He caught sight of three guards, two of them gesturing angrily, their faces twisted with frustration as they confronted a third who seed to stand slightly apart, head lowered. Kai's eyes narrowed, recognition sparking in his mind.
"Isn't that Palman?" he asked, a note of curiosity slipping into his voice.
Killian followed Kai's gaze and grunted. "Yeah, that's him. He's still struggling to fit in. It's better than it used to be, but... well, not everyone's forgiven him for the whole weaver incident."
Kai exhaled, a low, thoughtful sound. "I told them he's alright— showed them he could be trusted. But old stains linger, don't they?" He watched Palman, the man trying to keep his composure while the others practically shouted in his face, the discomfort clear on his features. "Stigmas don't wash away easily."
For a mont, he continued watching, his mind turning over possibilities, weighing the balance of fear and mistrust among his guards. Then, a new idea ca to his mind. Kai straightened, a gleam in his eye as he turned to Ansel. "I need you to do sothing."
Ansel blinked, straightening instinctively, awaiting orders.
***
With how busy everything had been, Kai hadn't realised just how quickly ti had flown. Now, the day of the count ceremony had arrived, looming large over Veralt.
Francis had been in charge of the preparations, directing every last detail with his usual precision. He'd constructed a grand platform in the central plaza, neatly arranging rows of seats for nobles and other important guests. For the commoners, there was no such luxury— they'd have to stand, watching from behind the designated area.
As the day dawned, it beca clear that the lack of seating wasn't an issue. The entire city seed to hum with anticipation.
From shopkeepers to housewives, farrs to artisans, nearly everyone who could stand on their own two feet had gathered in the plaza. Even those who weren't feeling well-found ways to be there, leaning on family or friends for support. The chatter was a constant murmur, with faces turned toward the platform, eyes squinting at the seats reserved for the nobles, trying to catch glimpses of the prominent figures who had arrived for the event.
The plaza itself was a sea of activity— bright banners fluttered in the crisp breeze, and stalls selling refreshnts lined the surrounding streets. Children darted between the gathered crowds, laughter mixing with the occasional shout. The noble families, dressed in fine silks and tailored suits, were a stark contrast to the more practical, worn clothing of the commoners, their carriages parked nearby like glittering ornants.
Guards patrolled every corner, maintaining a vigilant watch. Enforcers from the city moved through the crowds, keeping the peace and ensuring that the excitent didn't boil over into chaos. They remained alert, their eyes scanning for any hint of trouble, knowing that this many people in one place carried its own risks.
As the hour approached, the bishop arrived in his ceremonial robes, his presence signalling the solemnity of the occasion. Alongside him was the herald of King Sullivan, his armour polished to a mirror shine. They took their places on the platform, the bishop clasping a book of rites, while the herald bore the royal crest, an unmistakable symbol of the king's authority.
The chatter of the crowd grew quieter, curiosity sharpening their gazes toward the platform. Then, the sound of hooves and wheels reached their ears, growing louder with each passing second. A grand carriage rolled into view, flanked by Enforcers in formation, their expressions stern and focused. The carriage's crest glead in the sunlight, and the air thrumd with anticipation.
Soone in the crowd pointed at it and shouted, "Lord Arzan is here!"
A ripple of excitent ran through the gathered crowd, all eyes turning to watch the carriage as it ca to a halt near the platform, ready for the ceremony to begin.
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