The Crown Hidden in Shadows

The man who was eavesdropping on Videl went into an inn, and headed straight to the second floor.

Night had already begun swallowing Fantom City whole.

The streets outside were dim beneath the flickering lanternlight, and a cold wind drifted through the alleys carrying the smell of rain and smoke. Most inns across the city were crowded at this hour with adventurers, merchants, mercenaries, and drunk nobles wasting coin on cheap alcohol and prettier company.

Yet this inn was different tonight.

Too quiet.

Too empty.

Into the room walked the cloaked figure, causing the innkeeper to bow his gaze without a word. Silence followed him - thick, uneasy, pressing on everyone present.

A step groaned under his boot heel climbing up. The wood sighed low, worn by time and weight.

Most times, guests filled the upper floors of this inn completely. Today, though, every room stood empty.

A flicker in each hall light sent wobbling shapes crawling up the stone. Heavy quiet pressed like a weight.

Every wall seemed to pause, waiting. Silence pressed close, thick and heavy. Floors stopped creaking. Even dust hung still midair. The air felt tight, like before a storm breaks. Not even a whisper slipped through the halls.

A shadowy shape moved slow across the hall, then halted at a dark wood door lined with metal.

Just then, his eyes flicked backward.

No one.

Up went his hand, followed by three knocks.

"The sun will smile onto the world." Somebody inside the room spoke.

A hush fell, carried on a low steady tone. It spoke without rush.

Authoritative.

"It will come and shine its light on the crown." The man replied.

Something tapped, softly. The sound slipped through the air.

The door slowly opened.

A thick cloud of smoke curled through the air, rising from a snake-shaped dish made of silver. Strong. Almost too strong - anyone weak might have stumbled back coughing. Light flickered off gold flames, uneven, casting shaky outlines on walls. Figures stood there, motionless, clad in metal, arranged like statues near the middle.

Inside, the air carried a mood unlike anything beyond the walls.

Heavy.

Dangerous.

Like walking into the den of predators.

A figure sat at the center when the doorway shifted, others arranged around him without speaking. Light fell across one face after another only because the entrance had moved.

A figure in the chair seemed barely past thirty, but the weight he carried tightened the air like a knot. The space shrank without warning, pressed down by something unseen.

Big frame, strong like Eon - wide shoulders, tall stance - but where Eon felt raw, untamed, this one moved like polished stone shaped by quiet hands. His posture spoke of courts, not storms.

Stillness around him, yet power showed through. Quiet posture, but command filled the space.

That sort showed up without trying.

Not learned.

Not forced.

Behind his head, the dark brown hair lay flat and smooth, combed back without a strand out of place. Sharp eyes showed clearly now, watchful, missing little about deceit or fear. Over costly armor in deep tones, he carried a black coat - gold threads woven along its edges like quiet warnings. The elegance felt deliberate, each detail speaking before words came.

Every movement he made felt measured.

Controlled.

His posture and everything about him feels like he was meant to stand above others.

This person was none other than, the son of the Prime Minister of Skyfall Kingdom, Lucien Ashdrake.

The moment the cloaked man entered, all eyes turned toward him.

Lucien rested one elbow against the arm of his chair while lightly tapping a finger against the wood.

"Did it succeed?"

His voice was calm.

But everyone inside instantly straightened their posture.

"It has succeeded, and as your majesty predicted the fool Videl took it upon himself to find the missing relatives of the other students."

The man removed his hood while kneeling on one knee.

His face looked ordinary.

Forgettable.

Exactly the kind of face suited for a spy.

Lucien nodded slowly, acknowledging the report of the man.

A faint smile touched the corner of his lips.

"She really is naïve," one of the armored men muttered quietly.

Another chuckled.

"Heroes are always predictable."

Yet Lucien did not laugh.

Instead, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

"No," he said calmly. "That girl is dangerous in her own way."

The room became quiet.

Lucien slowly leaned back into his chair.

"Naïve people are easy to manipulate. But people with conviction?" His fingers tapped once against the chair. "Those are troublesome."

One of the women guarding the room frowned slightly.

She had short silver hair and cold eyes.

"Your majesty, are you sure about this?"

The moment those words left her mouth, another of the five immediately glared at her sharply.

"Are you questioning our liege?"

The armored man beside her had already placed his hand over the hilt of his sword. His killing intent surged faintly through the room like heat from burning metal.

The tension instantly thickened.

Yet the silver-haired woman did not lower her gaze.

She remained calm despite the hostility directed at her.

Lucien observed both of them silently before finally speaking.

"Enough!"

Hearing the command of his liege, the man no longer tried to pull out his weapon.

The room settled once more.

Though barely.

Lucien’s gaze shifted toward the silver-haired woman.

"Erick, are you really questioning my decision?"

Despite the masculine name, Erick was a woman with a lean athletic frame and sharp amber eyes. A thin scar stretched across her neck, disappearing beneath her collar.

Among everyone present, she alone seemed willing to speak honestly before Lucien.

"I would never question you my liege, but the warning Shawn gave us still rings in my head."

The moment Shawn’s name surfaced, the mood inside the room noticeably shifted.

Even the arrogant man from before went silent.

A faint crease appeared between Lucien’s brows.

When Erick said this, another one of the five spoke.

"Are you going to believe that coward?"

The speaker spat the words with clear disdain.

His name was Garron.

A massive warrior carrying two axes on his back.

Unlike the others, Garron clearly despised Shawn.

"Coward?" Erick’s eyes sharpened instantly. "You call a man who walked alone through the Red Cliff Mountain Range a coward?"

"Tch."

Garron clicked his tongue.

"He still abandoned the mission."

"And survived," Erick replied coldly.

That single sentence silenced him.

The atmosphere inside the room grew heavier again.

Lucien watched them quietly.

Observing.

Analyzing.

Like a king overseeing chess pieces.

"Stop it Henrick! Tell me how many of you could beat Shawn in a straight out fight? Do not bother lying to me, since I already know all of your abilities."

No one answered Lucien as they hung their heads in shame.

Even Garron looked away bitterly.

The silence itself became the answer.

"There is the answer, none of you can face Shawn one on one, and win."

Lucien’s voice remained calm, but the weight behind his words crushed whatever pride remained in the room.

Rain finally began falling outside.

Soft at first.

Then heavier.

The sound of droplets tapping against the windows filled the silence.

Lucien slowly stood from his chair and walked toward the nearby window overlooking Fantom City.

Below, the city lights flickered beneath the rainfall like dying stars.

His reflection stared back at him faintly through the glass.

Cold.

Ambitious.

Dangerous.

He clasped his hands behind his back.

"Shawn is many things," Lucien murmured quietly. "But he is not a coward."

Erick lowered her gaze slightly.

She still remembered Shawn’s expression two days ago.

For a man feared across the underworld to look genuinely unsettled...

That alone was terrifying.

Lucien’s eyes darkened slightly.

"You all saw him yourselves," he said. "A man who never feared death... warning us not to provoke Victor."

At the mention of Victor’s name, several people unconsciously stiffened.

The atmosphere itself became colder.

Even Lucien’s expression lost some composure.

Because unlike Videl...

Victor was an entirely different existence.

Unpredictable.

Violent.

Monstrous.

The kind of man people failed to understand until it was too late.

Lucien slowly narrowed his eyes.

"And yet..."

A faint smile appeared on his lips.

"The more dangerous someone is... the more valuable they become."

Rain continued pouring outside the inn while thunder rumbled faintly above Fantom City.

Inside the room, nobody spoke another word.

Lucien then remembered the last time Shawn came to him, it happened two days ago.