The rattling of the carriage was the only thing that filled the silence between them.
Kael watched the night scenery through the window. Dark fields. Trees turned into elongated shadows under the moonlight. The occasional flash of a lamp in some distant farm.
Boring.
Three more days until Stormvale, and this return journey felt eternally longer than the one out. At least in Vaeloria he had seen something worthwhile. The Emperor. That absolute power that made everything else seem insignificant.
Now, all that remained was returning to the small box.
"What are you thinking about?"
Aldric's voice interrupted his thoughts. The knight was sitting opposite him, wiping an imaginary smudge off his gauntlet with an expression that tried to appear casual but did not completely hide his discomfort. Kael looked at him.
"Things that matter."
"How specific."
"Since when are you interested in what I think?"
The knight let out something between a scoff and a bitter laugh, devoid of real humor.
"Since my survival depends on you not planning something that drags me to the bottom with you. Since every decision you make became my problem too. Since a brat has more control over my life than I do myself."
There was a tense silence.
Kael observed Aldric's expression. Barely contained resentment. Forced resignation. And beneath it all, fear. Always fear.
'Good. Fear keeps people loyal when respect fails.'
Kael leaned back into the cushioned seat, letting his fingers drum on the armrest.
"I was thinking about getting my own knightly order."
Silence. Aldric stopped cleaning his gauntlet and looked at him with an incredulous expression.
"Your own order? You?" Aldric let out a short, almost disbelieving laugh.
"The brat who can barely lift a sword properly wants to form a knightly order?"
"I have loyal initiates in the training yard," Kael replied calmly.
"I have Gareth, a Master, one who could kill half of Father's knights without messing up his hair. I have you, a Knight, one who knows exactly what he will lose if he betrays me."
Aldric clenched his jaw at the last comment.
"That is not an argument in your favor. That is a collection of disasters waiting to explode."
"It's enough to start. More than most have at my age."
Aldric rubbed the bridge of his nose as if he had a headache.
"Kael. Knightly orders require massive resources. Official authorization from the Grand Duke or the Council. You can't just declare you have an order because you convinced some lads to follow you while playing leader."
"I know."
"Then why are we having this conversation?"
Kael let his fingers drum on the armrest, considering how much to reveal.
"That's why I need to improve my position within the family first. Build something tangible. Show real results they can't ignore. Get certain uncles or important council members interested enough to back me. If they see that I can build something useful, something that benefits the House, they'll want to invest in me."
"Invest?" Aldric let out a humorless laugh, bitter as poison.
"Nobles don't invest, Kael. They buy. They acquire. They own. And when they buy you, when they put their gold and their influence into your little project, it won't be your order anymore. It will be theirs. You'll be their well-dressed puppet giving orders that they wrote."
"Not if I structure things correctly from the start. Contracts that protect me. Terms that ensure my final authority. Oaths that bind the investors as much as they bind me."
"Ah, sure. Of course," sarcasm dripped from every word.
"Because a ten-year-old boy is going to outsmart nobles in legal and political cunning who have played these dirty games for decades. Nobles who have scribes, lawyers, counselors, and spies at their disposal. Nobles who have ruined opponents more experienced than you before breakfast."
Kael stared at him.
"Do you doubt me, Aldric?"
Aldric held the gaze for a moment before looking away.
"I don't doubt your ability to manipulate, Kael. You've proven to be surprisingly competent at it, much to my eternal misfortune," he admitted in a low voice.
"But I do doubt that you fully understand the magnitude of what you face. It's not just cunning. It's experience. It's connections. It's knowing exactly what to press and when to back off. And those things are learned over decades, not months."
"Then explain to me exactly what I'm facing. In detail."
The knight sighed, completely setting the gauntlet aside now. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, as if sharing secrets he would rather keep.
"Knightly orders within a Great House are not just groups of loyal warriors marching nicely in formation," he began in a more serious voice.
"They are complex political tools. Social weapons. Every sworn knight represents much more than a sword. It represents a family connection. A minor family seeking social advancement. A war veteran seeking safe retirement and land for his children. A fallen noble seeking to restore his lost lineage honor. A second or third son without an inheritance seeking purpose and glory."
He paused, ensuring Kael was paying attention.
"When you form an order, you're not just recruiting swords and shields for battles. You are weaving marital alliances. You are creating debts of honor. You are establishing patterns of loyalty that will affect generations. And those alliances have a price. There is always a price."
"What kind of price?"
"Favors. Many favors. Accumulated debts that you will eventually have to pay with interest. Political compromises that will tie your hands for decades. A knight swears loyalty to you, but he expects his son to get a position in your house. Another expects you to back his claim on disputed lands. Another needs you to intervene in a conflict with a rival family. And if you fail to deliver, if you break those unwritten expectations, then your order crumbles because the loyalty of knights is not bought with gold but with honor and reciprocity."
Kael processed the information.
'Interesting. Aldric knows what he's talking about.'
"How many knights does Father have under his direct command?"
"About a thousand in total. Distributed between the garrisons in Stormvale and the border fortresses."
"And how many are part of formal orders?"
Aldric thought for a moment.
"Three main orders under the direct command of the Grand Duke. The Lightning Guard protects the mansion and immediate family. Fifty elite knights, all Knight level three or higher. They are the best."
"Then there is the Order of the Storm. War veterans who patrol the borders and fortresses. One hundred and fifty men hardened by real combat. And finally the Order of Steel, which handles logistics, initiate training, and coordination of the minor garrisons."
"And the others?"
"Individually sworn knights. No formal order. Just direct loyalty to the Grand Duke. They are scattered throughout the region."
Aldric leaned forward, his expression becoming more serious.
"But that's just the tip. When there's war or your father calls the banners, the orders are only the core. The Steel Legions mobilize. A hundred thousand soldiers who patrol Stormvale and maintain order. The Lightning Knights, fifty thousand elite warriors who can wipe out entire armies. The Cavalry, twenty thousand mounted that make the earth tremble when they charge."
He leaned back again.
"And that's not counting the fleet. War triremes in the Southern Sea. Black and silver, with spurs that cleave enemy ships like rotten wood. All of that answers to Varen when he orders it."
'Bigger than I thought. Much bigger.'
"Then a minor knightly order would be... insignificant."
"In the grand scheme, yes," Aldric admitted.
"But politically, no. A personal order gives you presence. It makes you visible to the minor vassals. And if you produce results, if your knights stand out in some important campaign or mission, then the uncles and council members will notice."
"But it also makes you a potential threat. Because now you have swords loyal to you, not to Varen. And he doesn't tolerate threats within his own house."
Kael nodded slowly.
"Then there is room for a fourth order. But I need to do it in a way that looks like a benefit to Father, not competition."
"Technically yes. But you would need Varen's approval. And he's not going to give you that kind of authority just because you ask nicely."
"I don't plan to ask nicely."
Aldric looked at him with an expression that mixed exasperation and something that almost looked like reluctant respect.
"Of course you don't."
The carriage continued moving forward. Silence returned briefly. Kael broke the stillness again.
"If I fall, you fall with me."
It was not a threat. It was a reminder.
Aldric clenched his jaw.
"I know."
"Then we're in this together. Whether you want it or not."
"How comforting."
"You could see it as an opportunity."
"Opportunity for what? To end up executed when your inevitable plan explodes?"
Kael smiled.
"Opportunity to be on the winning side when everything works out."
"Your confidence is as inspiring as it is suicidal."
"Thank you."
Aldric scoffed but didn't respond. His expression showed that internal conflict that Kael found fascinating. The knight hated him. He feared him. But he also knew that his best option was to play along.
Because the alternatives were worse. The carriage suddenly shook as the horses slowed down. Kael felt the change in rhythm before hearing the hooves stop completely.
Voices outside. Tension in the tone. Aldric instinctively reached for his sword.
There was a firm knock on the carriage window.
"Young Kael."
It was the Captain. His voice sounded strained. Impatient. Kael opened the sliding window.
The Captain's face appeared in the frame. A seasoned veteran. High status within the Drayvar guard. The kind of man accustomed to giving orders and being obeyed without question. And at that moment he looked irritated.
"There's a disturbance ahead. It's blocking the road."
"What kind of disturbance?"
"I don't know. Voices. A stopped carriage. Maybe an accident."
Kael briefly considered.
"Move them. Or kill them if they resist."
The Captain nodded with professional satisfaction at the direct order. There was no room for diplomacy when the imperial road was blocked for no reason.
He turned to convey the order to the guards. But before he could speak, a gut-wrenching scream cut through the night.
"PLEASE NO! DON'T KILL HIM!"
It was a female voice. Young. Desperate.
Kael leaned toward the window, trying to see past the mounted guards who blocked his view. More screams. Another voice, also female but smaller. A child.
"SISTER NO! DON'T GO WITH HIM!"
And then a masculine voice. Arrogant. Amused.
"Come on, Elara. You'll be my wife. Why wait? Come with me now. Your little sister can even come along. I'll take care of both of you."
Kael frowned.
'What is this?'
Aldric peered out too, looking ahead with a confused expression.
There was a wet sound. Boot hitting flesh. A moan of pain that was choked off in blood.
"Shut up, you filthy beggar!" It was another voice. Thicker. A guard probably.
"Your lady has made her decision. Die quietly."
Another blow. The sound of ribs cracking.
"NO!" The older woman, Elara, screamed.
"Please! I said I'll go with you! Just let him live!"
"See, Elara?" The man's voice again, closer now, almost whispering but projected with cruel satisfaction.
"Every minute you hesitate, he suffers more. Every second you feign resistance, his blood stains the road more. Do you want me to continue? Do you want to see him die for your stupid pride?"
"No! Please stop! I'll go with you! Just leave him alone! I beg you!"
"SISTER NO! DON'T GO WITH HIM!"
The sound of a struggle. Fabric tearing. The girl's voice closer, desperate, broken.
"STAY! FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING, STAY!"
The sound of the girl clinging to something was clearly audible. Sleeves probably. The sound of fabric being pulled. Uncontrollable sobbing.
"Let go of your sister, brat!" Another voice. Another guard.
"Or I'll hit you too."
"DON'T TOUCH HER!" The older woman, Elara, sounded on the verge of collapse.
"Nia, let go of me! I have to go! If I don't go, he's going to kill him! Do you understand? He's going to kill..."
"I DON'T CARE! YOU CAN'T LEAVE WITH HIM! SISTER PLEASE!"
Heartbreaking weeping. The kind of weeping that only comes from children who understand that they are losing something irreparable. And then the man's laughter. Low. Satisfied. Victorious.
"How touching. But your sister has decided, little one. She'll be a good wife. Obedient. Submissive. Just as she should be."
Kael processed the scene he couldn't fully see but was clearly painted in his mind.
'A noble forcing a woman. Hurting someone to break her resistance. Classic.'
Aldric looked at him expectantly.
"Orders?"
Kael did not answer immediately. He heard another blow. Another muffled groan. The little girl sobbing.
The Captain appeared at the window again, clearly awaiting confirmation to proceed with violence.
"Do we move the obstacle by force, young Kael?"
Kael drummed his fingers on the window frame.
'We could just kill them all and pass. Efficient. Quick.'
But something about the dynamic of the situation was... interesting. A noble abusing his power. A desperate woman protecting herself and her sister. A loyal guard being beaten for defending his lady.
Predictable but entertaining drama.
And Kael was bored.
Very bored. He leaned back in his seat, looking at Aldric with an expression the knight already recognized.
'Oh no.'
"What is all this drama?" Kael asked casually.
Aldric sighed.
"I don't know. Looks like some brat trying to take a girl by force."
Kael considered that. The screams continued. The desperation escalating. The struggle becoming more violent.
And then Kael smiled slightly. That smile that Aldric had learned to associate with imminent trouble.
"It sounds interesting," Kael said, opening the carriage door.
"Let's get out."