Page 48 of Sundered By Fate

"Y-Yes, my lord." Edran bowed so low he nearly toppled forward before hastily retreating into the crowd.

Valerian watched him go, then turned back to Aric, his smile still in place though it no longer reached his eyes. "Ah, the challenges of leadership," he said lightly. "Some still seem to view me as nothing more than a temporary figurehead. But I shall endeavor to prove them wrong."

Valerian's anger simmered beneath the surface, barely restrained. The ease with which he had switched from cordiality to cold fury was unsettling—a reminder that for all his charm, Valerian was not a man to be crossed.

Valerian motioned for them to continue their walk, the crowd parting before them as they strolled towards the heart of the city. "I find it helps to be reminded of the larger picture—especially when dealing with minor functionaries so intent on their petty intrigues." He gave a dismissive wave, as if brushing away gnats.

Aric fell into step beside him, torn between wanting to press Valerian for more information and fearing to overstep. "You mentioned earlier that you're trying to strengthen our defenses," he said carefully. "Is that why you sent representatives to Thornhaven?"

"Ah, the Silver Tower's task force." Valerian glanced sideways at him, an inscrutable smile playing on his lips. "I've been waiting for us to reach the Silver Tower before discussing them, but I suppose now is as good a time as any."

Aric nodded slowly. He'd noticed the mages in town—men and women in elegant robes in a dozen different hues, marked with symbols for each school of magic—but the tense distance they'd all kept from him warned Aric of the wary scrutiny they were no doubt placing him under.

Valerian leaned closer, dropping his voice. "I fear my uncle allowed the Pureblades to grow far too powerful in recent years while neglecting the potential of the Silver Tower." His lip curled slightly as he said the name of the order, distaste plain on his handsome features. "It's a mistake I do not care to repeat."

He straightened up again, his eyes fixed on some distant point ahead of them as they neared a massive structure that seemed to dominate the city's skyline. The tower soared upwards in a cascade of gleaming white stone, its surface etched with glowing runes that pulsed like a living thing. Aric felt a pang in his chest—a place he knew intimately.

"The Silver Tower," Valerian said, his voice filled with reverence. "A beacon of magical learning and innovation for generations, as you’re well aware, of course. And yet we have only scratched the surface of what it can achieve."

Aric's heart began to race as they approached its gates. Memories flooded back to him unbidden—of nights spent poring over ancient tomes by candlelight, of relentless drills in defensive spells and battle formations, of his first lessons with Davin and Olaya when he was just a boy . . .

But he sensed other things, as well—something dark lurking at the edges of his consciousness that made him shiver despite himself.

"I believe we can do better," Valerian continued passionately, drawing Aric back from the brink of memory's tidepool. "We have let fear and mistrust blind us to new possibilities for far too long. Even the Silver Tower is cautious in most cases, treating magic like a delicate thing that might shatter if they push it too hard. But I intend to change that."

As they walked, Valerian's hand occasionally brushed against Aric's arm, a touch that seemed both casual and deliberate. "And what about you, Aric? What was it like growing up within the Silver Tower's walls? I imagine your experiences there have given you a unique perspective."

Aric hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. His time at the Silver Tower had been both formative and painful, a constant struggle to reconcile his own beliefs with the rigid traditions of the mage order. But there was no denying the powerful magiche had learned there—magic that still coursed through his veins like fire.

"It was . . . enlightening, my lord," he said carefully. "But also isolating. The Silver Tower can be a closed society at times, resistant to change or new ideas."

Valerian nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Yes, I suspect as much. But your talents are undeniable, Aric. Your affinity for golden flame, your command of both human and demon magics . . . There is so much more we could achieve together, I think."

Aric's heart skipped a beat at the praise, but he chose to remain cautious. "I'm honored by your confidence in me, Lord Regent. But my past actions have put me in a difficult position with the tower."

"Perhaps." Valerian's eyes gleamed with some unspoken thought. "But I have a sense that you are destined for greater things than petty court politics. And I would very much like to help you realize that potential."

The words were laden with implication—and not just in terms of Aric's magical abilities. There was something else there too, lurking beneath the surface—a raw magnetism in Valerian's stare that made Aric shiver despite himself.

"I would be grateful for any guidance you could offer," he said finally, his voice a little unsteady.

Valerian smiled, and this time the warmth was genuine. "Then we shall see what we can accomplish together, yes?"

Their path led them to a grand plaza where preparations were underway for an upcoming event. Workers bustled about, raising banners and arranging flowers as Valerian guided Aric to a stop.

"The Grand Ball," Valerian explained, gesturing to the opulent decorations. "An annual celebration of our kingdom'sstrength and unity. Though this year, it will be followed by something far more consequential."

He turned to face Aric, and his expression was grave now. "The Council of War. We will meet with leaders from our allied realms to devise a strategy for ending this conflict once and for all."

A chill ran through Aric at the ominous weight in Valerian's words. "And what role do you envision for me in all of this?"

Valerian's gaze sharpened, and he stepped closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I intend for you to be at my side, Aric. I have seen what you are capable of—both your magical prowess and your understanding of the enemy we face." His eyes gleamed with ambition. "The mages of Astaria have long been overshadowed by the Pureblade Order in matters of war. It is time that changed."

Aric studied Valerian's face, sensing the layers of calculation beneath the carefully cultivated facade. Whatever Valerian's true intentions, he was clearly intent on shaking up the delicate balance of power that had defined Astarian politics for generations.

"I will do whatever is necessary," Aric said finally, the words feeling like both a vow and a warning.

This time, no warmth graced Valerian’s smile. "I have no doubt you will."

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