Chapter Four — Returns and Worries
Prince Novak rode beneath the shadow of Vaeltharion's palace walls just as the afternoon light began to soften. The great gates opened before him with practiced ceremony, but his thoughts were far from formal pageantry.
Seven months at the border had left dust on his boots and wind in his bones. He had grown used to quiet nights broken by watch calls, maps spread beneath lamplight, and the uneasiness that came with rumors traveling faster than messengers.
The summons came directly from my brother… he thought, brow tightening slightly. Then it will not be a trivial matter.
He had heard whispers even before leaving the outpost—burned storehouses, empty homes, signs carved into stone where no one claimed responsibility.
Ashen Maw… or frightened men pretending to be monsters?
He did not know. He intended to find out.
The palace courtyard was alive with activity—attendants crossing with scrolls, guards changing shifts, the soft laughter of court ladies passing under awnings. Novak dismounted, handed his reins to a stable boy, and started toward the inner halls.
He didn't get far.
A familiar voice broke across the stones.
"Uncle Novak?"
The prince turned just in time to see a tall figure striding toward him—dark hair, straight posture, eyes bright with honest warmth. Beside him walked a young guard trying, unsuccessfully, to hide a smile.
Rhaever didn't walk.
He ran the last few steps.
"You're back!" The Crown Prince reached him and clapped both hands onto Novak's shoulders. "You didn't even send ahead—how long have you been traveling? Is your arm healed from the last injury report? How were the border patrols? Did the river crossings flood this season? Are the men well? Did—"
"Breathe," Novak said, laughing quietly.
Rhaever blinked, then laughed too, slightly sheepish. "Right. I had… a few questions."
"A few," Novak repeated dryly. "An avalanche of them."
The guard coughed politely. "Your Highness, I did say you might overwhelm him."
Rhaever threw him a look. "You encouraged me."
"I did not," the guard replied, straight-faced. "I encouraged proper decorum."
Novak chuckled. "Your guard has developed bravery."
"He's been insufferable since you left," Rhaever sighed with mock despair. "Claims he has to keep me from tripping into trouble."
"You do tend to walk straight toward it," Novak said mildly.
Rhaever grinned like a child who'd been caught but not scolded. Then the grin softened into something quieter.
"I'm really glad you're back," he said simply.
The sincerity in his voice needed no flourish. Novak felt the weight of his long months away loosen just a little.
"I'm glad to be back," he replied. "I would say I returned for rest, but I suspect rest isn't why I was summoned."
Rhaever's eyes flickered for a moment—confirmation without words.
"There has been talk," the Crown Prince said. "I want to tell you everything. But—Father called you first."
"Then he takes priority," Novak said with a small incline of the head. "I will come to your quarters afterward. I expect a full account — the border has left me starved for palace nonsense."
Rhaever laughed. "I have nonsense, worries, and far too many things to say. Don't vanish after seeing Father."
"I won't," Novak promised. "And Rhaever?"
"Yes?"
"It's good to see you happy."
The Crown Prince smiled — not the polite, court-perfect smile he wore at assemblies, but one that reached his eyes. "Welcome home, Uncle."
Novak took a last glance at him — tall, steady, still holding warmth in a palace that often tried to bleed it away — then continued toward the imperial chambers.
The King's room was lit by steady oil lamps, their glow falling over scrolls stacked beside the throne. The Emperor looked up as Novak entered, and the years between them seemed to fall away for a heartbeat.
"Brother," the King said, rising partway before Novak bowed.
"Your Majesty."
"Do not start with titles," the King said, crossing the space and clasping Novak's forearm. "You have been gone too long for ceremony to be the first thing said."
Novak smiled slightly. "Then I will say I'm well. And you look as though you haven't slept enough."
The King exhaled softly. "The crown does not value sleep."
They sat.
Questions came first — not political ones, just human ones.
"Your health?"
"Your men?"
"Food stock? Any outbreaks?"
"No losses beyond the usual patrol skirmishes."
Only after those were answered did the King lean back, expression changing.
"We held council yesterday," he began. "Six clan leaders attended."
Novak nodded; he had expected nothing less.
"There have been attacks," the King continued. "Storehouses burned in the east. Travelers ambushed in the south. Villages abandoned overnight in the foothills. And symbols carved into stone near three sites."
"Ashen Maw symbols?" Novak asked quietly.
"Old ones," the King said. "But precise."
Novak grew thoughtful. "Some chiefs believe it truly them?"
"Yes," the King replied. "Others claim rebels borrowing a name to sow fear."
"And you?" Novak asked.
The King's gaze darkened slightly, not in drama but in thought. "I believe fear moves like water — it finds any crack to flow through. Whether Ashen Maw or pretenders, someone wants people frightened enough to scatter."
He fell silent for a moment.
"I will not have Vaeltharion ruled by fear," he said simply.
Novak bowed his head in respect for the tone rather than the authority. "Then what would you have me do?"
"Go where others cannot," the King answered. "Speak to the border clans. Listen for things that do not reach the council floor. If the Ashen Maw live again, even in fragments, they will not march loudly. They will move through shadow."
Novak considered, then nodded. "I will investigate quietly. I will send word as soon as I have truth, not rumor."
The King's shoulders eased.
"I knew I could trust you," he said.
The words were not dramatic; they were warm, worn smooth with years of shared burden. For a moment, the King was not emperor, and Novak was not subject — just brothers facing something larger than themselves.
"I will also speak with Rhaever," Novak added. "He wants to help."
"He always does," the King said gently. "Sometimes I fear his heart will lead him where walls cannot protect him."
Novak smiled faintly. "He has his mother's courage."
"And my stubbornness," the King sighed.
They talked a little longer — strategy, routes, people to contact — and when Novak finally left, the evening light through the corridor windows had dimmed toward amber.
Far from the royal chambers, in quieter guest quarters, Elowyn and her father sat together.
The room was modest compared to the palace halls — woven mats, carved chests, a low table where tea cooled untouched. Her father's cloak lay folded nearby, the dust of travel still clinging to its edge.
He had listened without interrupting.
Elowyn had spoken quickly — not childish rambling, but the rush of someone sorting her own thoughts aloud.
"…and then the Consort was angry, Father, truly angry," she said more softly now. "But before anything worse happened, the Crown Prince came. He defended me. And I realized… he was the boy from the tree. The one from before. The one who saved me when I fell."
Her father's expression had changed little, but the tension in his shoulders had not gone unnoticed by her.
He sighed slowly. "Elowyn."
She straightened almost automatically. "Yes, Father?"
"I told you not to train," he said — not sharply, but firmly. "Not because I doubt your ability, but because the world is not gentle with girls who pick up swords."
"I know," she said, eyes dropping. "But I—"
"And I warned you about palace grounds," he continued quietly. "Not every person here sees mistakes as harmless. You stumbled into the Consort's path. That could have ended poorly."
She swallowed. "Is she truly so dangerous?"
He hesitated — then nodded once. "She is proud. She is powerful. And she dislikes being crossed, especially before witnesses. You were fortunate today."
Elowyn listened, guilt pressing lightly against her chest. "I didn't mean to cause trouble for anyone."
"I know," he said.
His voice softened then, the sternness thinning into worry. He rubbed his brow, as though too many concerns crowded the same space — his daughter, the Consort, the council, the villages left burning.
She watched him a long moment.
"Father," she asked gently, "is it only the Consort that troubles you? Or… the other attacks? The Ashen Maw?"
He looked up, surprised at how perceptive she could be. For a heartbeat she was no child at all, just someone trying to share a burden.
He smiled — tired, but fond. "You see too much sometimes."
"Then tell me," she said. "Let me share it."
"These are matters for clan leaders," he replied, shaking his head. "Adult matters, heavy ones. You should not have to carry them."
Her lips pressed into a thin line. "I don't like seeing you worry."
He reached out and smoothed a loose strand of hair back from her face, gentler than any word. "Then be careful. Promise me that much. No more training in open yards. No drawing anger to yourself when you can avoid it."
"I promise," she said immediately.
He blinked, surprised by how quickly she answered.
"I don't like the look on your face when you're worried," she continued honestly. "I'll be more careful if it keeps you from looking like that again."
He laughed softly — a small sound, but real. "You've grown too fast, Elowyn."
She smiled back, then leaned forward and hugged him briefly, like she had done as a child after storms.
When she stood, the room felt lighter, though the worries themselves had not vanished.
"I'll go and let you rest," she said. "And I'll keep my promise."
As she reached the door, he spoke again, voice quiet but steady.
"Elowyn?"
"Yes?"
"Whatever comes, remember this—your worth was never measured by a sword. Whether you fight or not, you are already enough."
She nodded, eyes warm, then slipped out into the corridor, leaving him alone with his thoughts — attacks in distant villages, rumors of Ashen Maw, and the shadow of a Consort whose temper could shift tides within the palace walls.
He exhaled and looked at the faint mountain line visible through the window.
Too many concerns for one night.
Too many questions with no answers yet.
But somewhere else in the palace, a prince laughed with a returning uncle, unaware of the storms that would one day test their bonds.
And beyond the borders, wind moved through abandoned houses like a