The following morning dawned crisp and clear, mirroring the practiced efficiency of the castle routine. Breakfast, the clang of steel from the training grounds, the familiar aches settling into newly worked muscles – it all flowed with a predictable rhythm. Then came the riding lesson. Moss, the copper-coated stallion, seemed to have decided that yesterday’s cooperation was a one-time courtesy.

  Aren approached him with the calm demeanor Valerian had advised, speaking softly, offering a reassuring pat. He mounted with slightly more grace this time, avoiding the near-tumble of his first attempt. Once he was settled in the saddle the feeling of disconnect came back. He tried the gentle leg pressure that had worked yesterday, the subtle shift in weight. Moss swished his tail and remained stubbornly still, occasionally turning his large head to eye Aren with what seemed like profound indifference.

  Valerian stood nearby, arms crossed, observing silently for a time. "He senses your uncertainty, Aren," he stated eventually. "Horses respond to clarity. Your signals must be deliberate, confident. Hesitation translates as confusion."

  Easy for you to say, Aren thought wryly, frustration beginning to simmer beneath his carefully maintained composure. Yesterday felt like progress. Today feels like trying to convince a furry boulder to go for a stroll. He attempted the leg squeeze again, firmer this time, focusing his intent. Moss took a single, reluctant step sideways, then stopped again, pointedly ignoring further signals.

  This isn't working. The realization hit him with unwelcome clarity. Yesterday must have been beginner's luck. The gap between his understanding and his ability to communicate with the creature felt vast. He could feel the minutes ticking away, each failed attempt a reminder of Lycas's ten-day deadline. There's no way I can master this well enough to ride solo to Silon in time. He needed another plan.

  He spent the remainder of the lesson practicing basic control, achieving only marginal improvement. Moss consented to walk a few uneven laps around the paddock, but any attempt at a faster gait or a sharper turn was met with stubborn resistance. The hay scent of the stables, the rhythmic crunch of hooves on the packed dirt – it all faded into the background noise of his growing concern. He dismounted feeling disheartened, patting Moss’s neck with a sigh. "Maybe you just don't like me, pal," he muttered.

  Valerian offered a few more pointers, emphasizing patience and consistency, but even his stoic expression seemed to acknowledge the challenge. "It takes time, Aren. Do not be discouraged by one difficult session."

  Time is the one thing I don't have, Aren thought, nodding politely. Looks like I'm stuck with plan B, whatever that turns out to be. I grew arrogant learning Ether that fast.

  After the midday meal, having mulled over his problem, Aren made his way to the Duke's study. The heavy oak door felt imposing, a gateway to the conversation that would set the next phase of his mission in motion. He knocked firmly.

  "Enter," Darius's voice called from within.

  Aren pushed the heavy door open and stepped inside. Darius sat behind his large desk, looking up from a document with a welcoming expression.

  "Aren," he greeted warmly. "Come in, sit down. What brings you here?"

  Aren took the offered chair opposite the Duke, gathering his thoughts. "Your Grace, I wanted to follow up on our conversation from the other night. About Silon." He leaned forward slightly. "After speaking with that old traveler, Valen, and thinking it over, I'm very keen to visit the Ether training academy there. He described their methods as… unique. Potentially very beneficial for understanding and controlling my own abilities." He kept his tone earnest, hopeful.

  Darius listened intently, steepling his fingers. "Ambition suits you, Aren. And the pursuit of knowledge, especially regarding Ether, is commendable." He paused, his gaze thoughtful. "I quite grasp your enthusiasm, my boy. Your elevated station, you see, presents a plethora of opportunities, and you are to make the most of them! It is indeed commendable that you seek to better yourself."

  Aren felt a flicker of hope. He’s agreeing…

  "However," Darius continued, his tone firm but kind, "Silon is quite a distance. Traveling alone, particularly as you are still finding your feet in the saddle... No, I simply cannot allow that. The roads are not always secure, and you require someone reliable who is familiar with them. You shall have an escort – one of my men, naturally – alongside a trade cart heading south. It's safer, less noticeable, and practical."

  A companion. Aren’s mind raced. Well, damn. That complicates things significantly. How was he supposed to slip away to the Golden Ursai casino? How could he explain Lycas's passage token, meant for secret entry? A guard shadowing his every move made infiltration incredibly difficult, potentially impossible. And what if this guard is observant? If I get caught doing something suspicious, word gets back to Darius. Trust evaporates.

  Yet, Darius's logic was undeniable. His riding lesson this morning had brutally reinforced his incompetence. A trade cart, while slow, offered safety in numbers and removed the need for horse riding mastery. And a guard… well, a guard meant protection, which wasn't entirely unwelcome in a world still largely unknown and demonstrably dangerous.

  Okay, adapt and overcome, he told himself, falling back on old instincts. Deal with the guard situation when I get there. Maybe I can distract him, find an excuse, create an opportunity. If worse comes to worst and I blow my cover with the guard… well, I could always disappear into another dominion, continue Chronos Labs' mission solo from there. The thought brought a pang of regret. It would be a pity, though. The Stormborns… Darius, Leo, Isla… they've grown on me more than I expected.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Steeling himself, Aren met Darius’s gaze, projecting calm acceptance. He straightened slightly in his chair. "I understand, Your Grace. Your reasoning is sound. Thank you for supporting my request, and for your concern for my safety. I appreciate it."

  Darius chuckled softly, the sound warm and genuine. "No thanks are necessary, my boy. Seeing you take initiative, your desire for self-improvement… it does a man's heart good." He leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression returning. "Though, since you are undertaking this journey to Silon, I find I have a small task for you, should you be so inclined."

  "Of course, Your Grace. Anything," Aren replied readily.

  "It concerns the Baron of Silon, Merrick Falstone," Darius explained, his voice lowering slightly. "We have… longstanding ties, though circumstances have kept us from direct communication for some time. I wish for you to deliver a personal message to him. Discreetly. This is a private matter, Aren, not for common knowledge."

  Aren nodded. Adding political courier to my resume now? Interesting. "Understood, Your Grace. Consider it delivered."

  "Excellent." Darius seemed pleased. "I will prepare the message and finalize the arrangements for your escort and the cart this evening. I shall summon you after dinner to provide the details." He fixed Aren with a serious look. "Be careful in Silon, Aren. It is a bustling city, full of opportunity, but also deception and danger. It’s not for the faint of heart." A knowing glint entered his eyes. "But somehow, I suspect its particular challenges might be right up your alley." He paused again. "Oh, and one more thing. Do not mention this trip to Leo just yet. Or Isla, for that matter. Leo, especially… he would undoubtedly demand to join you, and I cannot allow them to leave the castle grounds unsupervised, not while threats may still linger. They remain targets. It’s better they learn of it after you’ve departed."

  With a final nod of acknowledgment, Aren rose and excused himself, leaving the Duke to his papers. Back in the corridor, he let out a slow breath. Okay. Companion acquired, cover story approved, side quest unlocked. Now, I need to retrieve the gold and the maps from my stash before departure tomorrow. Time to slip out of the castle carefully.

  Moving with a calculated casualness designed to avoid attracting undue attention, Aren slipped out of the castle grounds, merging into the moderate afternoon foot traffic of Stormia city. He kept his pace brisk but unremarkable.

  Reaching the edge of the forest, he quickly located the cluster of weathered boulders. The oilskin pouch was exactly where he'd left it, wedged securely in the crack. He retrieved it, checking the contents – the crude maps and the reassuring weight of gold coins – before securing the pouch safely inside his tunic.

  With his essential mission items recovered, he retraced his steps, walking back through the woods and into the city, then towards the castle. There was still a decent amount of daylight left. Determined not to waste a moment, especially now with departure imminent, he headed directly for the familiar dusty expanse of the training grounds.

  He pushed himself through another tough round of physical conditioning, focusing on the stamina his disastrous walk back from the riverbank had proven so lacking. Sweat slicked his skin, muscles burned, but he pushed through, driven by the memory of Isla's near-fatal injury, the feeling of helplessness, the knowledge that Atheria was unforgiving. He followed the physical exertion with quiet meditation, reaching inward, seeking that elusive connection to the Ether. It remained a faint, pulsing warmth, subtly stronger than before his trip to the Black Market. Patience, he reminded himself. Tier 1 is just the beginning. Keep building the foundation.

  The day bled into evening, marked by the familiar routine of cleaning up and heading to the dining hall. Dinner was a pleasant affair, filled with the usual banter, though Aren found himself observing Leo and Isla with a slightly different perspective, knowing he'd be gone by the time they woke tomorrow. He deflected their questions about his day with vague answers, careful not to hint at his impending journey.

  Later, as promised, a servant summoned him back to the Duke's study. Darius was seated behind his desk as before, but this time, another figure stood before him – a man in the uniform of the Stormborn guard.

  He appeared to be in his mid-thirties, with a solid, professional bearing. His posture was straight, his gaze calm but intensely watchful. Short brown hair was neatly trimmed, and a thin, faded scar sliced across one cheekbone, hinting at past encounters.

  Darius gestured towards the guard as Aren entered. "Aren, come in. This is Theron. He is one of my most loyal and trusted guards." Darius's tone held quiet confidence. "He will be your companion on the journey to Silon. Theron is skilled, knows the routes, and will provide guidance and protection. While dangerous beasts are uncommon in our dominion, the roads can hold other perils. Extra caution is never misplaced."

  Theron turned smoothly to face Aren, offering a stiff, formal bow. "Sir Aren," he said, his voice steady and respectful. "It is my honor to accompany you on this trip."

  Aren studied the guard closely as he returned the nod. Professional, yes. Experienced, likely. Yet, as their eyes met briefly, Aren detected something else beneath the disciplined exterior – a flicker of something that might have been eagerness, perhaps even a touch of naivete, or maybe just excitement for a mission beyond the castle walls. Seems trustworthy, Aren concluded.

  "Theron, you are briefed on the general nature of the journey. You are dismissed to make your final preparations," Darius instructed. The guard bowed again, first to Darius, then to Aren, and exited the study with quiet efficiency.

  Once the door clicked shut, Darius leaned back, his expression softening slightly. "Your cart is scheduled to depart shortly after sunrise tomorrow. I have kept word of your destination quiet, as discussed. Slip out quietly in the morning." He sighed lightly. "I will inform Leo and Isla myself after you are well on your way. Best to face their protests directly, take the blame upon myself."

  He fixed Aren with a serious gaze. "You must take care as well, Aren. Rumors travel swiftly. While your exact connection to our family remains something of a mystery to outsiders, it is known you hold a place of significance here. I do not believe anyone would be foolish enough to target you directly to leverage me… but caution is warranted. Our position invites scrutiny."

  Darius then reached into a drawer in his heavy desk and retrieved a sealed envelope, marked with the Stormborn wax insignia. "This is my message for Baron Merrick," he said, holding it out. "Guard it well. Keep its existence to yourself until you are before him. When seeking an audience, you may certainly mention you come with my blessing, but I would prefer you leverage your own growing reputation and title where possible. Using my name too freely in these uncertain times… it can sometimes attract more trouble than it solves. Use your judgment wisely."

  Aren took the envelope, feeling the weight of the seal and the importance it represented. He tucked it securely inside his tunic. "I understand, Your Grace. I will be discreet and careful."

  "Good." Darius nodded, rising from his chair. He walked around the desk, placing a hand briefly on Aren’s shoulder, a gesture of paternal reassurance. "Get some rest. Wake early and proceed directly to the main castle gates. The cart and Theron will be waiting. I will handle the explanations here, so do not worry about Leo and Isla's inevitable complaints when you return." He gave Aren’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Be safe out there, Aren. Silon awaits."