The following three days passed with the monotony characteristic of life at Drayvar Manor. Silent breakfasts where Kael was invisible. Lessons with Master Corvin where his mind wandered while Sareth took notes obsessively. Afternoons watching from the balcony as Rylan improved with every training session, his electric blue Aether shining brighter and brighter.
And nights in his cold room, listening to storms and building plans that were still too vague to be useful.
But on the fourth day, the routine broke.
Not dramatically. Not with explosions or revelations. But with something much more mundane: Kael saw something he shouldn't have seen.
And decided to use it.
He had passed the afternoon in the secondary library, a small space compared to Varen's main library, but large enough to house several shelves of books no one read, when he heard voices in the hallway. Voices kept at a low volume, the kind of conversation people have when they don't want to be heard.
Kael moved silently toward the ajar door. Not because he was particularly stealthy, but because he was small, and people rarely noticed small children when they were concentrated on other things.
"...you can't keep doing this," said a female voice, trembling and desperate. "My husband started asking questions. If he finds out..."
"Your husband is a half-deaf blacksmith who works twelve hours a day," replied a male voice, deeper, tinged with cruel amusement. "He won't find out anything unless you tell him."
"But..."
"But nothing. You enjoy it as much as I do, Mira. Don't pretend otherwise."
There was a sound of fabric brushing against stone, a stifled gasp, and then Kael peeked out enough to see.
The hallway led to one of the manor's storage wings, little traveled except by servants. And there, half-hidden in a niche between two pillars, were two figures.
One was Mira, one of the kitchen maids. Kael had seen her before: common face, brown hair always pulled back in a tight bun, hands constantly red from washing dishes. Married to Tomos, the blacksmith who maintained the training weapons in the manor.
The other figure was Ser Aldric, one of the knights in charge of the manor guard. Young, perhaps twenty-five, with the kind of chiseled face that made maidens sigh when he passed. Aether Level: Second Layer Knight, competent enough to be respected but not powerful enough to be important.
And in that moment, he had Mira cornered against the wall, one hand on her waist, the other playing with the laces of her apron.
"Tonight," murmured Aldric. "The stables. Midnight."
"I can't. Tomos will be..."
"Tomos will be drunk and snoring as always," Aldric's hand rose, tracing her jawline. "Unless you prefer I have a conversation with him about how his wife brings me extra wine every night. And how she always stays a little longer than necessary."
Mira paled.
"That is... you asked me to..."
"I know," Aldric smiled. "But do you think he will know the difference? He only needs the seed of doubt, Mira. Just a small conversation about how his wife is very friendly with the knights."
It was blackmail. Pure and simple. And Mira knew it, her face crumbling into a mixture of fear and resignation that made something in Kael's stomach twist.
Not from moral disgust. Kael was eight years old, but he had already learned the world didn't work on morality. It twisted because it was inefficient. Aldric was gaining some momentary pleasure, yes, but he was creating an enemy. He was planting resentment that would eventually explode.
'Stupid,' thought Kael. 'If you are going to manipulate someone, do it right. Do it so they thank you for it.'
Mira finally nodded, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
"Midnight. The stables."
"Good girl," Aldric gave her a condescending pat on the cheek and walked away, whistling a cheerful tune.
Mira stood there, leaning against the wall, shoulders shaking as she tried not to cry. Then she straightened up, wiped her eyes roughly, and hurried back toward the kitchens.
And Kael remained in the library, with the door ajar, processing what he had just seen.
Information. Power. Opportunity.
Not to be good. Not to help Mira, who was clearly a victim in this situation.
But to learn. To test. To see if knowledge could really turn into something useful.
'There are other ways to be strong,' he had told Sareth a few days ago.
Maybe it was time to find out if he was right.
That night, Kael waited until Sareth was asleep in the adjoining room before slipping out of his bed. The castle was silent except for the constant wind and the occasional creak of old wood settling. Guards patrolled the outer perimeter, but inside the manor, after midnight, almost everyone slept.
He slipped through the hallways with bare feet, avoiding the floorboards he knew creaked. It wasn't hard to get to the stables; he had walked this path dozens of times during the day. Only now, in the darkness, everything looked different. Bigger. More threatening.
'Don't be afraid,' he told himself. 'Fear is for those who don't have a plan. You have a plan.'
More or less.
The stables smelled of straw and horse manure, a scent that would normally have been unpleasant but in the dark became almost comforting. Familiar. Kael hid behind a pile of grain sacks, with a perfect view of the rear storage area where the saddles were kept.
And he waited.
He didn't have to wait long.
Aldric arrived first, swaying slightly. He had been drinking; Kael could smell it even from his hiding place. The knight leaned against a wooden post, checking something on his belt, probably making sure his sword was at hand, because even drunk, a warrior's instincts remained, and he whistled that same irritating tune.
Five minutes later, Mira appeared. She moved like someone walking to her own execution, shoulders rigid and face pale in the dim light of her lantern.
"You're late," said Aldric, though she arrived exactly on time.
"I'm sorry, Ser Aldric. Tomos took a while to fall asleep."
"Mmm," Aldric grabbed her by the waist, pulling her roughly. "Well, you are here now."
What followed was educational.
Not in the sense most people would think. Kael was eight years old; he didn't fully understand the mechanics of what he was seeing, nor was he particularly interested. But he understood power. He understood dynamics. He understood that Aldric was taking something Mira didn't want to give, using threats disguised as seduction, and that she allowed it because she believed she had no other choice.
'But there is always another option,' thought Kael as he watched. 'Just that sometimes it requires someone else to show it to you.'
He waited until they finished. Until Aldric buckled his belt with lazy movements and gave Mira a pat on the bottom that made her cringe.
"Same time next week," he said with a slurred voice.
Mira nodded, picking up her lantern with trembling hands, and rushed out of the stables without looking back.
Aldric waited a minute, making sure she was gone, and then headed toward the opposite exit, the one leading to the knights' barracks.
And Kael stepped out of his hiding place.
"Ser Aldric," he said with a clear voice in the darkness.
The knight froze, his hand flying instinctively to his sword. He turned, squinting in the gloom, and then his expression shifted from alarm to confusion when he saw a small boy standing among the grain sacks.
"What the hell?" Aldric released his sword, relaxing slightly. "Young Kael? What are you doing here at this hour?"
"I saw something interesting," said Kael, keeping his voice neutral, almost curious. "With you and Mira. Here. Now."
Aldric's face paled even in the darkness.
"Were you... were you spying on us?"
"Not on purpose. I woke up and couldn't sleep, so I came to see the horses," Kael shrugged, the perfect image of childish innocence. "And then you two arrived. I didn't want to interrupt, so I hid. But I saw everything."
"Little vermin," Aldric took a step forward, his expression twisted now. "Do you know what happens to children who stick their noses where they shouldn't?"
"No," admitted Kael. "But I know what happens to knights who are caught... intimating with other men's wives. Especially when they use threats to do it."
Aldric stopped dead.
"You're a brat. No one would believe you."
"Probably not," agreed Kael. "But what if I tell Tomos? He is just a blacksmith, but he is big. Very big. And he has hammers. Lots of hammers."
"Tomos wouldn't..."
"Or I could tell Master Torin. He oversees the guard when Father is busy. And he is very strict about discipline. He says a knight without honor is no better than a thief."
Kael saw genuine panic cross Aldric's face. Because it was true. Torin was inflexible about the rules, and if there was one thing he despised more than incompetence, it was the abuse of power.
"What do you want?" asked Aldric finally, his voice hoarse. "Money? I don't have much, but I can..."
"I don't want money," interrupted Kael. "I want sweets."
There was a long, bewildered silence.
"What?"
"Sweets. After dinner. Every night. Mira can bring them to me. She works in the kitchens, she knows where they keep them."
"That's it?" Aldric sounded almost relieved. "Just sweets?"
"Just sweets," confirmed Kael. "But every night. And if you forget, or if Mira forgets, then I will have to remind people what I saw here."
Aldric looked at him for a long moment, his brain clearly struggling to process how an eight-year-old boy was successfully blackmailing him.
"You are a little demon," he said finally, but there was a note of—respect?—in his voice. "Who the hell taught you to think like that?"
'No one,' thought Kael. 'And everyone. Every person who ignored me. Every meal where I was invisible. Every day where I didn't matter. You taught me.'
But out loud he only said:
"Do we have an agreement, Ser Aldric?"
The knight grunted, running a hand over his face.
"Yes. Damn it. Yes, we have an agreement. Mira will bring you your damn sweets."
"Excellent," Kael smiled, and it was genuine this time, because it had worked. It had really worked. "Goodnight, Ser Aldric."
He slipped back toward the manor before the knight could respond, leaving him standing in the stables with an expression of total disbelief.
And Kael felt something warm and intoxicating expand in his chest.
Power.
Not the kind of power Rylan had, made of muscle and Aether. But something subtler. More dangerous.
The power of knowing things. Of using those things. Of making people do what he wanted without even lifting a finger.
'Other ways to be strong,' he remembered telling Sareth.
He had just found the first one.