Chapter 37 : Thalvaron
"I have a list," Rudravaan said. "A few nobles' names on it."
Fenlor glanced at him. "Who are they? What do you need me to do?"
"Ask them some questions." Rudravaan paused. "And kill a few of them."
Fenlor was quiet for a moment. He looked at Rudravaan — calm, reading him — then looked away.
"...You're serious."
It wasn't a question.
"I thought you were strong," Rudravaan said.
"That has nothing to do with it." Fenlor's tone stayed even. "They're nobles. Even showing up at the wrong one's door uninvited is enough to cause problems. Killing one?" He shook his head slowly. "That's a different matter entirely."
Rudravaan scratched the back of his neck. "Ahh. Then just ask the questions. Forget the rest. Can you do that?"
Fenlor considered it briefly. "How do I approach them?"
"When you meet them face to face — tell them Rudravaan sent you."
A short silence. Fenlor gave a small nod, asking nothing further.
"Where's the list?"
Rudravaan reached into his robe and handed it over. Fenlor took it without a word, unfolded it, and read through the names carefully — his expression still, his eyes moving slow and deliberate.
Henry watched him from the side, saying nothing.
Rudravaan turned and walked back toward the palace, leaving the two of them alone on the training ground.
Henry waited until he was out of earshot, then looked up at Fenlor.
"Are nobles really that powerful?"
Fenlor folded the list and tucked it away. "Yeah," he said simply. "They are."
Henry sat with that for a moment.
Fenlor glanced at him, then turned toward the exit. "Come on. We need to pack."
Henry fell into step beside him without another word.
Rudravaan made his way back through the palace corridors and pushed open the door to the study.
Morvyn and Cassian were both at the table, documents spread between them. Morvyn looked up.
"Morvyn." Rudravaan leaned against the doorframe. "Come here."
Morvyn set his quill down and walked over. "What is it now?"
"I need you to make some arrangements."
"What kind of arrangements?"
Rudravaan smiled. "We are going to have guests. In a few days."
Morvyn stared at him. "...Guests." He let the word sit for a moment. "We took back this kingdom only a few months ago. The ink on half these documents is barely dry and you want to receive guests?"
"Don't worry about it."
Morvyn exhaled through his nose. "I genuinely cannot follow a single thing you do." He crossed his arms. "At least tell me who they are and why they are coming."
"Nobles," Rudravaan said simply.
"Nobles." Morvyn's brow creased. "And how exactly are nobles going to find their way here?"
"Fenlor will bring them."
A long pause followed. Morvyn looked at him — searching for some sign that there was more to this than what was being offered. There wasn't.
He sighed. "...I trust you."
They climbed into the carriage as the last of the daylight bled from the sky. The wheels found the road and rolled on, the kingdom slowly falling away behind them.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
Somewhere along the way, Henry broke the silence. "Where are we going?"
Fenlor reached into his coat and unfolded the list, scanning it once before folding it back. "First stop is a place called Thalvaron."
Henry turned to look at him. "What's it like?"
Fenlor tucked the list away and leaned back. "No idea. Never been."
Henry looked out the window at the darkening road ahead, saying nothing more.
The carriage rolled on.
The carriage came to a stop at the entrance of Thalvaron and pulled away, leaving them behind.
They stood there for a moment, taking it in. Then they walked.
The rain had already begun — quiet at first, then steady, tapping against the cobblestones and soaking into their coats. Henry pulled his collar up and glanced at Fenlor.
"We should find a place to stay. Soon — unless you want to spend the night soaked through."
"Yeah," Fenlor said.
They moved through the streets until Fenlor spotted a fruit seller hunched beneath a wide canopy, unbothered by the weather. He stepped over and asked. The man pointed them down the road without looking up from his wares.
The inn was not far. They pushed through the door and into the warmth inside — the smell of firewood and something cooking drifting through the air.
Henry lasted approximately as long as it took to find the room.
The moment he saw the bed he crossed the floor in three steps and threw himself onto it, face first.
Fenlor looked at him. "Change your clothes before you catch a cold."
Henry groaned into the pillow but didn't argue.
The common room below was quieter now — a few guests still seated near the hearth, the low murmur of conversation drifting through the warm air. The innkeeper stood behind the counter, wiping down the surface with a worn cloth. He looked up as Fenlor approached.
"Good evening, sir. What can I do for you?"
"Just a question." Fenlor paused, reaching into his coat. He unfolded the list, ran his eyes down it, then folded it back and tucked it away. "Do you know someone by the name of Jasper Reed?"
The innkeeper's hands slowed. "...May I ask why you're looking for him, sir?"
"Just want to know."
A short silence passed. The innkeeper set the cloth down carefully. "I'm sorry, sir. I can't help you with that."
Fenlor held his gaze for a moment, then gave a small nod. "Can't be helped."
He turned and made his way back toward the stairs. He said to himself " have to ask around in the morning."