Alias withdrew from the balcony as silently as he had approached it, his expression carefully schooled, though his thoughts were anything but composed.
He returned to his chamber with a furrowed brow and a heaviness settling behind his ribs. The palace, once merely unfamiliar, now felt watchful , its silence no longer peaceful but deliberate, curated. Doors hid things here. So did people.
A princess dragged across her own garden.
And not by enemies.
By her own guards.
He paused just inside his room, the door closing with a muted click behind him. His gaze drifted unbidden to the bed, where two objects lay exactly as he had left them: the delicate tiara catching the candlelight, and the worn notebook beside it, quiet and unassuming.
He exhaled slowly.
What he had seen could not have been a misunderstanding. The king himself had given the order. There had been no hesitation in his voice—only command. And the others… the queen, the sisters… they had rushed forward, yes, but none had stopped it.
Not one.
Alias ran a hand through his hair and crossed the room, sinking onto the edge of the bed. Isabelle's face returned to him—her unfocused eyes, the raw desperation in her voice as she cried out for something unnamed, over and over, as though the world itself had stolen it from her.
I want it.
Not madness.
Need.
He glanced again at the items on the bed.
"…These," he murmured.
Understanding dawned slowly, unwelcome but undeniable.
She had not fled to the garden for no reason. She had not screamed into the night without cause. She had lost something—something precious enough to unravel her entirely.
And he had it….. but clearly this is not enough to cause a ruckus in the middle of the night right?
But then again, there are rumors that the third princess is clearly unwell in the matter of the mind, so could it be?...…
Alias closed his eyes briefly, jaw tightening.
Well if that is the case then this is trouble, he merely took them to safe keep them for her but now…
He sigh
Returning them now would raise questions. A duke wandering the halls at night with a princess's possessions would invite scrutiny he neither wanted nor could afford. And yet doing nothing sat poorly with him.
The royal family was hiding something. Of that, he was now certain. Whatever plagued the third princess was not spoken of, not acknowledged—only managed, restrained, concealed behind locked doors and stern commands.
He wanted no part in it.
He had learned long ago what came of involving oneself in royal secrets.
At last, he made his decision.
Tomorrow, discreetly. Through a servant. No names spoken. No eyes drawn.
He placed the tiara carefully beside the notebook and stood, turning away as though distance alone might quiet his thoughts.
Yet as he lay back against the pillows, sleep stubbornly refused him.
Because no matter how he reasoned it away, one truth lingered, sharp and unyielding:
Princess Isabelle was either mad, very mad or.. something else is going on in the palace
And whatever the crown was hiding…
They want it hidden for as long as possible, and him knowing would be troublesome….
Morning light crept into Alias's chamber like an uninvited guest, pale and persistent. He had slept little. When the knock finally came, sharp and formal, he was already awake.
A young maid stood outside his door, eyes lowered, hands folded too tightly to be at ease.
"My lord," she said, "His Majesty requests your presence in the study. Immediately."
Alias inclined his head. "Of course."
As she turned to leave, he hesitated, then glanced back into his chamber—toward the bed, where the tiara and notebook rested.
"One moment," he said quietly.
He retrieved them and returned, lowering his voice. "These belong to Princess Isabelle. See that they are returned to her discreetly."
The maid's eyes flickered—just once—to the worn notebook, then back to the floor.
"…I will try, my lord."
Try.
The word lingered unpleasantly.
The king's study was exactly as Alias remembered it fifteen years ago: tall windows, iron-latticed shelves, maps unfurled like conquered lands. The air smelled of ink, wax, and old decisions. King Aldric stood with his back to the room, studying a marked parchment, hands clasped behind him.
"Duke of Ashbourne," he said without turning. "You are punctual. A virtue I value."
Alias bowed. "Your Majesty summoned me."
The king finally faced him, sharp-eyed and composed. "Sit."
Alias obeyed.
"You have been away from Avelesse for many years," the king began smoothly. "Yet war has kept us… acquainted." He gestured toward the maps. "Borders strained. Trade routes threatened. And now"—his finger tapped a circled region near the capital—"beasts."
For a moment alias thought that he was summoned because of the commotion that happened last mid night, he thought the king saw him at the balcony, but thank
Heavens that seems to not be the case.
Alias's gaze now sharpened. "Dhravoks do not roam cities without cause."
"No," the king agreed. "Nor do trolls, nor lesser horrors, yet reports grow daily. Farmers disappear. Guards vanish. The people grow restless."
"And panic breeds rebellion," Alias said calmly.
A flicker of approval crossed the king's face.
"Precisely. You see why I wished to speak with you." He leaned against the desk. "You have faced these creatures. You understand their patterns. Their weaknesses."
Well basing on what he had read last night on a specific notebook belonging to one of your daughter, she seems to know about these creatures the same as I, but clearly, you do not know that. Alias thought as he stared and listened to his king.
Honestly, as much as he tried to ignore what he saw last night, it kept lingering on his mind,
A king of the kingdom, who shows nothing but love to his people and his four daughters infront of his subjects could command his third daughter to be dragged away.
Yes she screamed at top of her lungs last night and clearly seemed to be sick in the mind yet as a father, and as a king, what he did wasn't right.
This, reminded him of his father, and he didn't like it one bit….
"And you wish for my counsel," Alias said to his king, staying focused to the present.
"For now." The king's voice softened—dangerously. "Perhaps more than that."
Alias felt it then—the invisible tightening of a net.
"You were always effective," the king continued. "Decisive. Unafraid. Monsters seem… drawn to you."
Alias kept his expression neutral. "I hunt what threatens the kingdom "
"Do you?" the king asked mildly. "Or do they hunt you?"
Silence stretched between them.
"Alias" the king called " do you know why.. These creatures are drawn to avalesse?" He asked.
Wherever this was going, Alias didn't like it but he answered anyway
"I know only that beasts follow weakness," Alias answered evenly, not wanting to say anything more
A faint smile touched the king's mouth. "Do they?"
Silence stretched…
At last, the king straightened. "Stay in the palace. Advise me. Help me prepare Avelesse for what is coming."
Alias inclined his head. "As you command."
"Good," the king said. Then, almost casually, "You witnessed some… unrest last night."
So he did saw me?!!
He tensed but hid it well.
He met his gaze steadily. "I heard it."
"That is all you heard," the king corrected.
Alias said nothing. Understanding what was meant.
The king's eyes lingered on him a moment longer, sharp as a blade testing armor. Then he turned back to his maps.
"You may go."
When Alias returned to the corridor, he found the same maid waiting, pale and visibly shaken.
"My lord," she whispered urgently, "I—I could not deliver them."
Alias frowned. "Why?"
"The princess is… ammmm," she said… hesitating.
Alias brows furrowed as he stared at the maid and asked " what happen to the princess?" "No servants is allowed entry in her bedroom" She answered quickly this time
"Why" He asked, though he may have an idea why.
"The queen herself ordered it." She swallowed. "The items were taken from me. I was told never to speak of them again."
Alias felt something cold settle in his chest.
Taken.
Hidden.
Silenced.
He nodded once. "You did well."
As he walked away, the image of Isabelle in the garden returned to him—her voice breaking the night, her hands reaching for something stolen.
I want it.
Power. Politics. War.
The king spoke of beasts roaming the land.
Yet Alias could not rid himself of the thought that the most dangerous thing in Avelesse was not lurking beyond its walls, and he himself could not even believe of what he was thinking, the king was resembling Alias' father of how he treated him as how the king treats his daughter princess Isabelle,
So yes, he's a monster, just like his father and is seated upon its throne.
And somewhere within that palace, a princess was paying the price.