Bab 21: Another Plot
Meanwhile, parading past the blustering murmurs and shouts of the crowd, the bay steeds basked under the moonlight as they plodded past the multitudes and other fancy carriages along the lit, stone-paved streets.
And seated ramrod straight in the coach seat, a young man, quite forgettable in looks despite the prim vest and suit, quietly held the reins of the steeds as he steered the wine-hued carriage further inward through the bustling city till reaching a more solitary uphill neighborhood and later at the steps of a quaint yet imposing manor.
Then with a lithe descent from his seat, the lean butler carefully spoke, his tone deferential, "We have arrived, Sir Calvin." With this, the carriage door swung open as the aristocratic merchant alighted with some difficulty as he leaned against his cane.
The oppressive silence emanating from the bald man choked out any further words from the butler, who stiffly escorted the man into the manor.
Then once the dark oak doors shut behind them, the aristocrat suddenly slumped to a squat, unbecoming of his status.
"D—did I act well?" his former confident aura crumbled to pieces as he continued with a light accent typical of Karst's residents, "My heart nearly had wings." The butler straightened himself in the meantime before glancing downward with a small smile.
"It was perfect. I doubt they would have followed us this far."
"Of course, no one gets past my watch," a hearty chuckle came from the front as a lit candle exposed the sickly features of a bleached-blonde haired man.
"Prince!" the two men uttered, one in surprise while the other exasperated— that person being the pot bellied aristocrat.
"You little!" Sir Calvin then wagged his finger furiously at the toothy-white grin of the pale, young man who leaned back into his cushioned wheelchair. "From what source did it say to toss an elder into a mission without further notice?!"
Smiling sheepishly, the prince shrunk back into his seat further at the glare the aristocrat sent him. "I apologize, sergeant."
Seeing at how the prince didn't excuse himself, Sir Calvin felt slightly better. At least this proved that the boy had a bit of sense in him. If only he had done it sooner for his father...
"So?" the aristocrat perished the thought while digging into his clothes before with a pop, his pot belly shrunk— although not by much, "where is the real aristocrat?"
A sly glint passed through the prince's blueberry eyes. "He's currently undergoing 'revision' by Aeron. Once his memory is altered successfully, we'll set him free."
The fake aristocrat hummed his approval before turning aside toward the butler, "Good work, Akos. Want to catch a ride with me?" His hand patted the man's back— or more precisely, those unfurling wings.
In his butler suit, Akos smiled politely at his superior while his wings gradually sprouted from his back. "I'll have to visit the captain, so you should probably head home without me."
"Ah right," the bald man murmured as he adjusted a brown wig onto his head, "I'll pick up your younger brother then."
Before Akos could reject however, the prince spoke, "Sergeant, Merle is at the captain's house; Akos can pick him up when he visits." The bald sergeant nodded in understanding and bowed toward the prince before taking his leave through a rifting portal inside the room.
When the sergeant left, the prince finally asked, "Akos, report." The butler wiped off the smile he had immediately.
"We've identified the locations of the illegal slave camps. As you said, most of them are located deep within the aristocrats' private lands. Additionally, we shook off a spy along the way and revealed the merchant's initial diamond mine plan to distract them."
"Good work," the prince praised softly while shifting uneasily in his wheelchair, "Then about Ilona?"
Akos paused, "Nothing from the princess yet, but I can reach out to her if you wish."
However, the prince waved a hand dismissively, "Don't do it. You'll risk exposing her." When he noticed Akos standing there quietly, he added with a wide grin, "If there's nothing else to add, you're excused."
"Yes, master," Akos responded as he bowed before with a flap of his wings, his vanishing figure flew out of the house with a gust.
Alone again, the prince blew out the candle in his hand and wheeled himself toward a nearby window, gazing at the waning crescent moon. Its dim brilliance reflected off of his solemn eyes.
Once the new moon comes, it would be time— only one more week until his goal comes to fruition, and yet he still felt hesitant.
Despite not moving, his blueberry irises swiveled to the side at the sound of approaching steps, and a bitter smile graced his lips. "Aeron, are you afraid of the future?"
As the footsteps slowed to a halt, a baritone voice replied, "No, because I know this kingdom will be in good hands."
The prince let out a curt laugh, "As expected of you, brother— confident as always..."
"You should stop calling me that," the baritone voice contained dissatisfaction, "That boy already died long ago. All I am now is just a piece of you, nothing more..."
The prince's lids shook at that and uttered, "Aeron, even if our souls are halves of the whole, you are your own person."
"So? You are going to suffer for the rest of your days?" Aeron's words cut through, "Your condition will only worsen as you get older. It'll be best to hold the ceremony after this is all over. Or..."
The wheelchair creaked slightly as a rugged hand appeared from the shadows, placing pressure on the chair's handle, "Are you thinking of abandoning Ilona when you finally die?"
Hesitation flashed across the prince's face for a moment, "I won't die." Then he tilted his head back with a playful raised brow at the pitch-black irises staring at him, "I'm too young to."
Meeting those cocky blueberry eyes, Aeron snorted and spoke, "Shameless and stubborn."
"Aren't we both?" the prince retorted with a smirk.
...
Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
stone