The air had changed.
Summer's warmth no longer lingered in Ravencourt. The golden light of autumn spread across the estate, leaves drifting lazily with every passing breeze. It was calm—too calm.
But beneath that calm, Aleron knew something was moving.
Bandits.
Not just scattered thieves, but organized ones. Careful. Patient.
Waiting.
---
Aleron stood inside the strategy room, a large wooden table before him. Maps of Ravencourt territory were spread out, marked with charcoal lines and symbols.
Across from him stood Cael.
Silent. Focused. Observing everything.
"Reports confirm it," Aleron said calmly. "Supply routes have been watched. Not attacked… just watched."
Cael nodded slightly.
"That means they're not desperate," Cael replied. "They're planning."
Aleron leaned forward, placing his finger along the outer forest line.
"They're waiting for winter."
Cael's eyes sharpened.
"Exactly," he said. "Once winter hits, food becomes scarce. Movement slows. If they strike then, Ravencourt will be forced into defense."
A brief silence filled the room.
Then Aleron smiled slightly.
"So we don't let them reach winter."
---
Cael stepped forward and began adjusting the map.
"Direct attack would be foolish," he said. "We don't know their numbers, and they might be baiting us."
Aleron crossed his arms.
"So we control the board instead."
Cael glanced at him.
"…Yes."
He began outlining the plan:
"Step one: tighten internal control."
"Reduce unnecessary movement. Only essential caravans leave the estate—and all of them are escorted."
Aleron nodded.
"Step two?"
Cael pointed toward the forest routes.
"Information."
"We don't hunt them. We make them reveal themselves."
Aleron's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Bait."
Cael smirked faintly.
"A controlled one."
---
They began refining it together.
A fake supply route.
Lightly guarded on purpose.
Visible enough to attract attention—but secretly monitored.
Hidden scouts would observe any movement. Track them. Follow them.
Not attack.
Not yet.
Aleron tapped the table once.
"We locate the nest first."
Cael finished his thought.
"Then we erase it completely."
---
Outside, the crisp autumn wind swept across the training grounds.
Steel clashed.
Kaelan moved first—fast, precise, controlled.
Darien blocked, but barely.
The impact pushed him back a step.
"You're holding back," Darien said, narrowing his eyes.
Kaelan lowered his blade slightly.
"I'm measuring you."
Darien scoffed.
"Measure this."
He lunged forward aggressively—far more direct than Kaelan's style.
Their blades collided again.
This time, faster.
Sharper.
---
The two circled each other.
Different styles.
Kaelan was refined—efficient, almost effortless.
Darien was force—relentless, overwhelming.
"Your technique is clean," Darien admitted. "But in real battle, hesitation kills."
Kaelan stepped forward calmly.
"And recklessness blinds."
He struck.
Darien barely parried in time.
---
After several exchanges, they finally broke apart.
Breathing steady.
Neither backing down.
Then Darien spoke again, more casually this time.
"…My juniors will arrive soon."
Kaelan raised an eyebrow slightly.
"Juniors?"
"The ones I trained," Darien said. "Not weak… but not proven either."
Kaelan sheathed his blade halfway.
"And you think they'll follow Aleron?"
Darien shrugged.
"Not necessarily."
He smirked slightly.
"They don't follow titles."
Kaelan fully sheathed his sword now.
"Good."
Darien frowned.
"…Good?"
Kaelan turned away slightly.
"Aleron doesn't need followers who only obey names."
He looked back at Darien.
"He'll make them believe."
---
Darien was silent for a moment.
Then he chuckled.
"…Yeah."
"That sounds like him."
---
Back inside the estate—
Aleron and Cael had finished outlining the operation.
Everything was set.
Scouts would move at dusk.
The "bait" caravan would leave within three days.
Every piece placed carefully.
Every risk calculated.
Cael stepped back from the table.
"There's one more thing."
Aleron looked at him.
"If this works," Cael continued, "we won't just eliminate bandits."
"We'll send a message."
Aleron's expression hardened slightly.
"To who?"
Cael met his gaze directly.
"To anyone watching Ravencourt."
---
Aleron turned toward the window.
The falling leaves.
The quiet land.
The illusion of peace.
"…Good," he said softly.
"Let them watch."
---
Far in the distance—
Unseen.
Hidden within the forest shadows—
Figures moved.
Watching.
Waiting.
Just as Cael predicted.
---
And from the highest tower of Ravencourt—
Albert stood silently.
Observing everything.
As always.
---
"The young master has begun moving," he murmured quietly.
"And this time…"
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"…the board is no longer small."
---