Bound by Royal Secrets

Chapter 1

Lucius Whitmore, the only son of Prince Edmund Everhart, was selected as a companion to Prince Leopold at the tender age of ten. What he initially thought would be an exciting opportunity soon turned into a harsh reality. He found himself in Kingdom City facing the daunting challenges of Prince Leopold's troubled world—absent mother, absent affection, and treacherous siblings. With no choice left, Lucius rolled up his sleeves, tackled the situation head-on, and earned a reputation as the kingpin of Kingdom City.
After enduring countless battles alongside the now-grown Prince Leopold, Lucius believed he could finally retire to his estate and tend to the land peacefully. But instead, fate had other plans—a royal betrothal announcement crashed into his reality. Marriage with Prince Leopold? No way! He needed to escape. Yet, why did a hint of reluctance linger within him?
**Chapter 1: The Betrothal**
In the autumn of the 25th year of the reign of King Henry, the barbarian tribes invaded the Skyward Realm. General Chandler Blackwood marched forth at the king’s command. But catastrophe struck—at the same time, the Ancient Dominion of Enford attacked, overwhelming Chandler and the Skyward Guard with sheer numbers. News arrived of besieged cities and a cut-off supply line. With no one left to support him, Chandler led his remaining soldiers to defend the Beyond the Stronghold.
Even as winter approached, snow began to fall over Beyond the Stronghold, erasing the red earth beneath—a stark reminder that nature sought to cover the battlefield with a shroud of white, hiding the graves of countless souls lost to war. The snowflakes twirled aimlessly like lost spirits before settling softly, disappearing into the white blanket below.
“Sir, we must retreat! Kingdom City has fallen! Prince Alaric has turned against us!” cried a scarred commander, struggling valiantly with one arm while blood oozed from wounds that went unheeded.
Chandler Blackwood found himself in a similar plight—pain and blood, some his own, some from the enemy, enveloped him. Furrowed brows and a heavy heart marked his face. His piercing eagle eyes scanned the distant cold mountains, fixated on something unknown. As a fierce warrior rushed at him, he swung his sword with anger, “Where can we possibly go…”
Chandler realized he could no longer escape. He was weary of evasion, and it felt like his destiny had already been penned—a death wrapped in a shroud of battle flag.
With bitter humor, he pondered if he had never set foot on the battlefield, perhaps Lucius Whitmore wouldn’t have grown distant. If they hadn’t competed for the throne, perhaps Lucius would still stand by his side. Just maybe, if he’d been brave enough to confess his feelings to Lucius, would it have changed everything? But he didn’t know.
Before him loomed endless enemy forces, behind him stood a nation on the brink of collapse. The desire to fight, to win—none of it held meaning in a world without Lucius Whitmore.
In a daze, he felt a flicker of Lucius' presence.
He recalled their first encounter; he had been eight, and Lucius was ten. From that very first meeting, he found a disdain for Lucius, who despite similar misfortunes—both orphans confined to the royal palace—seemed radiant and carefree, surrounded by friends. It frustrated Chandler, for Lucius embodied a naivete that seemed out of place in their harsh reality.
What he hadn’t expected was how fiercely Lucius would protect him. Their twelve years together weaved a bond of mentor and friend and eventually blossomed into something deeper. Chandler longed to be with Lucius forever, to share a life together. But in the end, it was just a foolish thought.
Looking up at the gray sky, where sunlight no longer shone through the clouds, he faced a flurry of broken snowflakes.
And now, parting seemed inevitable. On that day atop the castle wall, Lucius had given him the only keepsake he had—a jade rabbit pendant that hung from his belt. He had not wanted it.
He didn’t need a memento; he wanted Lucius.
Chandler wished he could openly embrace him, confessing he didn’t want him to go. But fear held him back, afraid to confront the disgust he might see in Lucius' eyes.
Lucius had done so much for him. Lucius yearned to return to his estate, where family and friends awaited. All Chandler had was Lucius.
Now, as Lucius prepared to leave, he had no choice but to accept it, to wish him well on his journey—his heart ached for the fate that awaited his beloved friend.
But not long after, devastating news arrived about Lucius.
Chandler closed his eyes, drained of strength, collapsing in the snow as a pristine tear slipped from his eye and struck the cold ground, leaving a deep imprint.
With his last strength, Chandler clutched the jade pendant. He crushed it, but something felt wrong.
Lifting his bloodied hand carefully, Chandler realized he still held fragments of jade, but his attention was drawn to a red ribbon tightly tied around his wrist.
He smiled, thinking of how foolish he had been, finally realizing Lucius' true feelings.
As that smile crossed his lips, pain radiated through his body, blood trickling from his mouth. Time was slipping away, and with it all the regrets he'd never be able to mend. The one he wished to make amends with was already gone...
If he had another chance, he wouldn’t let Lucius slip away again.
...
"Prince, the King awaits you." A familiar voice drew him from his thoughts. How long had it been since he had heard that sound?
With a sudden jolt, Chandler opened his eyes to find a beautiful figure clad in a silver robe before him. The simple, unadorned white jade hairpin he had gifted him adorned his head. A pair of elegant eyebrows and soft, full lips—there stood Lucius Whitmore.
Furrowing his brow, Lucius spoke, “Your Highness, this isn’t Beyond the Stronghold. The King is waiting; please hurry.”
He knew this scene all too well.

Chapter 2

This was not how he had envisioned returning to the Royal Court after a glorious victory alongside Lucius Whitmore. It should have been a moment of celebration, yet a rift had emerged between them over the distribution of rewards.
Chandler Blackwood was eager to secure his place within the Royal Court, and so he directly approached Emperor Ferdinand with a request to elevate his mother’s status. His mother, with her simple name, Bai, was once an ordinary servant girl, favored briefly by Emperor Ferdinand, which led to his own birth. If he aspired to contend for the throne, he first needed to honor his mother by granting her a noble title. It was a strategic move that could disarm those around him and paint him as a dutiful son in the emperor's eyes.
However, Lucius felt that these considerations were futile at the moment. They should focus on securing a title of nobility for Chandler instead of dealing with the emperor’s whims and the doubts of rival princes. Lucius feared that if Chandler lost his status, he would become a target for political scheming within the court. Gaining a title was the safest path forward.
Ignoring Lucius's advice, Chandler became frustrated at even the thought of Lucius distancing himself. Distraught and unable to concentrate, he went ahead and made the request to elevate his mother’s standing—only to have Emperor Ferdinand deny it. In a twist of fate, the emperor instead granted him the title of Lord Griffin, leading Chandler to believe that Lucius wouldn’t remain upset with him.
But he was wrong. Lucius promptly submitted a letter of resignation to return to his estate, and Emperor Ferdinand, keen to keep Chandler grounded, readily approved it.
Chandler watched Lucius’s face, which now hinted at anger. Acting on impulse, he embraced Lucius tightly, inhaling the fresh scent of green lotus rather than the familiar, grim odor of blood and dust from the battlefield. For the first time in days, he felt alive.
Lucius, taken aback by the unexpected hug, thought, “Is he even in his right mind? Did my harsh words last night knock the sense out of him?”
“Hey, have you hugged me enough? Get ready quickly. You need to remember what I told you about the rewards,” Lucius said, struggling to disengage from Chandler's vice-like grip, feeling increasingly squeezed with each passing moment.
“I’ll remember,” Chandler replied, glancing down at Lucius, who sported a flushed face. He couldn't help but feel a rush of emotion, though he knew better than to disturb the current state of affairs. Lucius was still preparing to leave, having resolved to return to his estate.
“I should head home first; I’m dead on my feet,” Lucius yawned, clearly fatigued from worrying about Chandler’s well-being all morning and running to the palace to get on his case for court.
“Okay,” Chandler smiled in agreement, making his way behind a screen to change into his court attire. As he dressed, he couldn’t help but devise a plan to keep Lucius by his side. With Lucius having given him the rabbit jade pendant, it was a sign that his feelings were shifting.
He was determined to take a gamble; after all, he only needed one outcome.
Lucius wondered why Chandler wasn’t urging him to stay the night. Ever since his recent victory and subsequent acquisition of a residence, Chandler had become increasingly possessive, hardly allowing him to step outside the royal grounds. This time, however, Chandler's demeanor felt oddly detached.
Perhaps their argument had caused an unintended emotional rift.
A hint of gloom washed over Lucius. He didn’t want things to be tense between them, but that stubborn streak of Chandler’s was never easy to navigate.
Neither Chandler nor Lucius was fond of being catered to; even with servants now available, they preferred to handle themselves privately.
As Lucius’ thoughts drifted, Chandler emerged from behind the screen, fully dressed in formal attire and attempting to fasten his belt.
Lucius stepped forward, instinctively smoothing down Chandler’s coat and adjusting its fit, studying him intently.
Feeling the weight of Lucius’s gaze, Chandler coughed nervously, “What’s up?”
“Nothing. You just seem a little off today,” Lucius replied, examining Chandler’s expression.
“I’m not off,” Chandler insisted awkwardly. He wondered if his recently shifted demeanor made Lucius suspicious.
Lucius thought to himself, “Something’s definitely amiss. Usually, our talks are formal and filled with weighty discussions, but now Chandler isn’t as rigid as usual. His piercing eyes, sharp features, and stoic demeanor are somehow softened today. It’s unsettling.”
He decided to brush it off. “Anyway, remember, when we’re in the grand hall, don’t speak back to Emperor Ferdinand. Just go along with whatever he says, especially since we’re asking for rewards.” Lucius patted Chandler’s shoulder, nonchalantly adjusting his belt, completely unaware of how intimate the moment felt given their shared history over the past twelve years.
For Chandler, the memory of Lucius leaving him for eight years resurfaced—an image that now replayed in a bittersweet loop, causing him to stiffen at Lucius’s touch.
“Yeah, I’ll head out now.” Chandler stumbled slightly as he moved toward the door, almost retreating on that touch.
Unbeknownst to Lucius, Chandler’s surprise transformation in attitude was puzzling him further.
As soon as Lucius returned home, a decree from the palace arrived, echoing through the halls:
“Prince Leopold has been granted the title of Lord Griffin and will be wed to Lucius Whitmore, the son of Prince Edmund Everhart, becoming the Lady of Lord Griffin.”
A marriage.
A man with a beauty mark on his cheek, dressed in a green robe, walked leisurely along the official road, carrying a wooden trunk. His appearance was unremarkable, but he exuded an air of scholarly poise—clearly an aspiring scholar heading to Kingdom City for an exam.
Yet, upon entering the bustling Kingdom City, he was nearly deafened by the raucous sounds of horns and drums.
Curiosity piqued, he grabbed a nearby Townsperson, an elderly man with a white beard clutching a string of candied hawthorns, and asked, “What’s all the fuss about?”
“That’s our Prince Leopold, no, Lord Griffin! He’s getting married today!” the old man exclaimed, joyous and animated.

Chapter 3

Scholar Edmund was taken aback. He had traveled all the way from Emerald Vale and had heard countless tales about the legendary Skyward Guard, yet here he was, not long after returning home, hearing news that this renowned warrior was getting married.
As he surveyed the crowded street, where crate after crate of red wooden boxes was being carried out of the city while others flowed towards Kingdom City, he furrowed his brow and asked, "Do you mind telling me which young lady is at the center of all this?" The lavish bridal gifts were puzzling; they seemed to be leaving in pairs.
Old Man Caelum nearly dropped his candied hawthorn skewer in excitement when he heard the question. Scholar Edmund quickly steadied the old man's trembling hands. “It’s Prince Edmund Everhart’s son, Lucius Whitmore! This parade of gifts is all for the wedding.”
Scholar Edmund was utterly stunned, and Old Man Caelum couldn’t help but chuckle at his surprise. “You didn’t see this coming, did you? I was just as shocked the first time I heard the news. Lord Griffin has acted quickly—only five days from proposal to wedding! He’s been preparing all this without even sending ahead the traditional gifts. They say if they miss the auspicious day, they’ll have to wait three months longer. Lord Griffin can hardly contain himself, ha ha ha…”
Old Man Caelum continued his lively recounting, while a sense of impending doom washed over Lucius Whitmore. What would happen if his father found out?
Would Cousin Alaric end up with a broken leg for trying to meddle? Lucius half wondered if his own legs would break in the chaos.
…
Lucius Whitmore had no interest in this forced union.
When he received the royal decree, he couldn't believe that anyone would dare to deceive him, the self-proclaimed ruler of Kingdom City.
He looked over at Derek Wells' unyielding face—standing next to Emperor Ferdinand—and felt an urge to tear off his so-called "mask" to see if the man beneath was even real.
How infuriating! What was Chandler Blackwood thinking?
Lucius was losing his mind; he never expected Chandler would pull such a stunt. Had he finally gone off the deep end?
Dressed in a vibrant red wedding outfit and covered by a matching veil, Lucius sat in the decorated palanquin, the sounds of celebration and fireworks feeling deafening and oppressive. He felt an overwhelming desire to leap out and escape.
Unfortunately, when he moved, he felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him; his limbs felt heavy, and even moving his fingers took effort. He felt as if he had turned into a pile of cotton, and speaking required immense effort, like he had swallowing sugar.
Yann Celeste was in on this too? When had he and Chandler become partners in this madness?
He had thought his friend’s visit for a drink was a plea for help in avoiding this marriage. But after one cup, something felt off. Since when had he been such a lightweight? No fine drink should have knocked him out so easily.
“Sir, would you care for something to eat?” came a voice from outside the palanquin—Alder's voice.
“No thanks, I'm too full,” Lucius grumbled, his mood souring further. Had all his companions turned against him? Why were they all siding with Chandler Blackwood?
Sensing Lucius's sour mood, Alder wisely fell silent and focused on guiding the procession.
As they traveled, Lucius silently counted the seconds, raising an eyebrow. Was Lord Griffin's estate really that far? Kingdom City was at the westernmost edge of the land. Why was Emperor Ferdinand so averse to Chandler Blackwood? Surely being his son shouldn’t merit such disdain. Even with his notable military accomplishments, Chandler seemingly faced hostility without merit.
After what felt like an eternity, Lucius pondered again on the bitter truth that a monarch’s heart was often the coldest.
Guests arriving at Lord Griffin's estate all wore plastered grins. With Prince Leopold infamous for being the decorated Skyward Guard, recently honored as Lord Griffin, it was clear that Emperor Ferdinand intended to block any ambitions for his third son to ascend the throne. Crown Prince Henry's position remained unchallenged.
It was amusing that Prince Leopold sought to wed Prince Edmund’s son, Lucius Whitmore, hoping to win favor from him. Prince Edmund was renowned for his cunning—there was no way he would entertain such an arrangement without a price. It made sense that Chandler hurried to secure Lucius before anything could go awry.
When Lucius finally arrived at the great hall, supported by Madame Joy and Alder, he was abruptly seized by a large, strong hand. Thanks to the summer heat, Lucius’ wedding outfit was relatively light, but he could still feel the defined grip around his waist, causing his face to flush beneath the veil. From his limited view, he could just glimpse the hem of another red garment.
It was Chandler Blackwood. That rascal.
Madame Joy and Alder, seeing that Chandler was taking matters into his own hands, discreetly stepped away.
With one arm wrapped securely around Lucius' waist and the other propping him up, Chandler led him further into the hall.
Upon arrival, Madame Joy guided Lucius forward, where they joined hands at the ends of a red silk cord.
The ceremony was conducted by a portly eunuch appointed by the palace, who started with a cheerful, high-pitched chant. “Bow to Heaven and Earth…”
Chandler felt the tension rise. While he truly wished to wed Lucius, he was acutely aware of how forceful this situation felt. Would Lucius resent him for it?
But Lucius found little time to dwell on such thoughts. There was no escaping now; resistance meant they both shamed themselves. Their private affairs should remain just that, and how they lived their daily lives was theirs to figure out, rather than fodder for others’ gossip.
Without waiting for Chandler's cue, Lucius bent at the waist first.
Chandler immediately followed suit, grateful Lucius moved slowly enough for him to match the respectful gesture without drawing attention.
When it came time for the bow to the parental figures, awkwardness ensued—both their families were notably absent.
So, they offered a shallow bow to the decorative deity of marriage displayed at the front of the hall instead.
Just as they got to the final bow—“Couple face each other and bow…”—a wave of relief washed over both men.
Chandler swiftly scooped Lucius into his arms and carried him to the bridal chamber, inciting a round of joyful cheers from the guests. While none dared raise a ruckus during the couple’s union, they could certainly express their excitement aloud.
The newly designated Lord Griffin’s estate was still settling in, many places were being rearranged; however, the bridal chamber had been prepared well in advance, all decorations and red papers were intact, enveloping the room in a warm glow.
As Chandler gently set Lucius down at the edge of the bed, Lucius felt Chandler lift his veil, and he could only imagine the shocked expression on Chandler's face upon seeing his pale features.

Chapter 4

Madame Joy stepped forward, presenting a golden scale. “Please, the groom should lift the bride’s veil.”
Lucius Whitmore felt a wave of anxiety wash over him. What if he looked terrible?
Seraphin Blackwood lifted the veil and gazed upon Lucius, who wore just a hint of makeup, yet still looked stunningly beautiful. He couldn’t help but swallow hard, turning away as he stiffly asked, “Are you hungry? What do you want to eat? I’ll get it for you.”
Lucius watched Seraphin’s awkwardness, feeling a mix of fear and amusement. It was funny how someone so confident seemed so flustered now.
“Hmm, aren’t we supposed to drink the toast first?” Lucius interjected, trying to regain control of the situation.
Seraphin paused, clearly surprised by Lucius’s willingness to share a drink. “How about you eat something first? Alder told me you haven’t eaten all day…”
Before Lucius could respond, Seraphin dashed off to grab a plate of snacks, returning with a plate held like a dog awaiting praise.
Lucius fought back a grin but maintained a cold demeanor. “Yann Stone really is ruthless. The effects of that medicine haven’t worn off yet, and you want me to eat alone?”
Without hesitation, Seraphin offered him a piece of the buttery pastry he loved.
When Lucius had eaten a couple of bites, he realized he was thirsty. Seraphin quickly poured him a glass of water.
Feeling significantly better, Lucius nodded towards the table. “Let’s drink the toast; you need to go greet the guests soon.”
Seraphin obediently grabbed the glasses, and they interlocked arms to drink the toast together.
“Alright…You rest up, I’ll deal with the people outside,” Seraphin said, setting down his glass and getting up with a slightly disordered gait.
Lucius chuckled as he watched Seraphin’s retreating form, his posture straight as a rod, as if he were an unyielding bamboo.
Although Lucius didn’t dislike Seraphin, he wished he’d discuss things with him instead of making decisions on his own. If this kept up, one day Seraphin might really get under his skin.
Lucius removed the ornate hairpiece and instructed his attendants to prepare a bath. The weather was uncomfortably hot, having spent all day in a heavy wedding robe; he couldn’t bear being enveloped in his own sweat any longer.
After his bath, Lucius, with his long hair flowing down and clad in a white undergarment, sat on the bed eating a little more.
As he settled into the quiet, an oddly surreal thought struck him: How had he ended up marrying Seraphin?
He found himself smiling at the thought.
Just as Lucius began to yawn, Seraphin returned.
Upon entering, Seraphin immediately noticed Lucius, whose light clothing seemed inadequate. He frowned, saying, “Why are you dressed so lightly? You’ll catch a chill.”
As he spoke, he grabbed a red cloak from the rack and draped it over Lucius’s shoulders.
Getting close to Lucius, Seraphin’s scent of alcohol wafted over. His eyes still sparkled, indicating he wasn’t drunk yet—especially since no one in Kingdom City would dare overindulge him. Lucius playfully kicked at him, “You should hurry and shower. You won't catch a chill if I’m in bed with you.”
Seraphin looked at Lucius intensely, his eyes sparkling as if he had caught onto something deeply enjoyable.
Flushed under Seraphin’s gaze, Lucius felt his face heat up. “What are you staring at? I’m not here to help you bathe!”
“Not that! I just—” Seraphin stammered, suddenly mindful that he had been too taken by joy that Lucius hadn’t chased him away.
He quickly called for someone to prepare the bathwater.
Seraphin nearly leaped through his wash, eager to join Lucius by the bed, only to be met with a pill being thrust into his hands.
“Hangover pill,” Lucius explained.
Seraphin nodded, trusting Lucius’s care for him.
“Alright, bedtime,” Lucius said, patting the pillow as a sign for Seraphin to lie down.
With the lights out, they lay under the same crimson bedding, heads side by side, their breaths seeming to mingle in the shared space.
Feeling extremely warm, Seraphin thought he might sweat, especially as Lucius kicked the covers off and moved closer, whispering into his ear, “Alright, I know you’re warm-blooded, so don’t move.”
Seraphin remained still, uncertain and cautious.
Initially thinking he might struggle to fall asleep, Seraphin surprisingly drifted off to the familiar scent of lotus coming from Lucius.
The night passed without dreams.
---
As dawn broke, a few birds chirped eagerly atop the roof. Dewdrops clung to the vibrant green leaves, sliding down one by one along their veins, while the lush grass soaked the hems of passing visitors.
After washing up and finishing breakfast, Alder arrived early at the couple’s elegantly decorated honeymoon suite.
Today felt strange; normally punctual, both the groom and bride had yet to rise.
Alder pondered this unusual situation. Lucius often woke before him, and Seraphin was an early riser for practice. Typically, they wouldn’t need to be urged awake.
But given that this was their first morning as a married couple, should he—?
Alder hesitated.
Just then, Butler Reed appeared, spotting Alder pacing like someone who had been banished recently.
“What’s going on?” Butler Reed inquired.
Recognizing the butler’s distinctive bushy mustache, Alder recalled he had briefly met him the day before as Lord Griffin’s servant. Rumor had it that Butler Reed was once quite knowledgeable and had nearly achieved a prestigious degree before mysteriously abandoning that path to become Seraphin’s loyal caretaker.
Pointing toward the room, Alder said awkwardly, “It’s almost time; Lord Griffin and Lady Sutherland still haven’t woken up…”

Chapter 5

Butler Reed chuckled, pinching his short mustache. “Just be patient. True love always finds a way. It’s understandable to want to stay in bed this morning, but don’t disturb the masters.”
Alder gave Butler Reed a knowing look, his sly smile causing a ripple of unease in his stomach as he considered his role in Seraphin Blackwood's intentions toward his master. What if his master held a grudge against him for helping?
Inside, the two occupants had already woken up, locked in a gaze with one another.
The moment Seraphin opened his eyes, he caught sight of Lucius Whitmore asleep beside him. For a brief second, he thought he was still dreaming, until Lucius, feeling the intensity of his stare, squirmed awake and pinched Seraphin’s cheek. That jolt brought Seraphin to reality—this was no dream.
“Are you awake?” Lucius asked, glancing toward the light filtering in through the window. Spotting Alder waiting outside the door, he realized they were running late. Without waiting for a response, he started climbing out of bed.
As Lucius sidled past Seraphin, his heart raced, unsure whether he was crossing some invisible line. Could Lucius step over him so casually? Was he really that invisible? Did he mean so little to him…?
Lucius landed on the floor and began rummaging through his clothes while casually asking, “Are we going to the Palace today?” He needed to decide what to wear. After all, many were waiting to mock this wedding, but Lucius Whitmore would never give them the satisfaction.
“No, we’re not going,” Seraphin replied, rising swiftly to don a striking black-and-gold robe. With his hair pinned up by a black jade crown and his expression as serious as ever, he looked quite formidable.
Lucius, shocked by Seraphin's bold attire, nearly questioned his hearing. He turned to see Seraphin’s dramatic change in demeanor. Had he really grown so audacious about his feelings towards the emperor?
“He mentioned it to you before?” Lucius asked, still apprehensive. While entering the palace might lead to complications, avoiding it could also incite the emperor's wrath. If that happened, life would become unbearably difficult for them.
“If I don’t want to go, I won’t. He wouldn’t want to see me anyway,” Seraphin replied, noticing that Lucius had yet to dress. Concerned he might catch a chill, Seraphin dashed over. He chose a cerulean outer robe and helped Lucius put it on, quickly gathering his hair with a blue jade hairpin. This wasn’t their first time in this intimate routine; he felt practiced.
Seeing Seraphin taking the lead, Lucius decided to relax and let him. He called for Alder to bring water for washing.
Once they finished washing up and had breakfast together, Seraphin made an excuse and left first.
Lucius watched Seraphin’s retreating figure, a sigh escaping his lips. Everything felt just the same between them as it always had. He had genuinely hoped Seraphin would come to a realization today.
Waving for Alder, he considered what to do next. The Whitmore estate was still under renovation, leaving him with little to do at home while Butler Reed oversaw affairs. Instead, he decided to get some fresh air.
As he stepped out of the estate, his mind wandered to Yan Stone. A cold smirk touched his lips as he decided to pay him a visit today.
…
In the pitch-black dungeon, flickering torchlight cast dancing shadows on the damp stone walls. Only a few ventilation windows allowed faint beams of light into the suffocating darkness.
Footsteps echoed as a pair of heavy black boots stepped inside, picking up moisture from the ground.
“Master, Simon Wainwright has confessed—it was indeed him who delivered messages to the Crown Prince,” Grant reported, clenched teeth betraying his anger. He never expected Simon, his brother-in-arms, to betray them so completely, giving away their every move to the crown.
Seraphin raised an eyebrow sharply, a cool gaze landing on Grant. This man had always demonstrated his loyalty. They had fought side by side until Seraphin's downfall in a previous life, where Grant had never wavered.
Having been a military man, Grant had initially earned Seraphin's respect after defeating him in a duel, marking the beginning of their unwavering bond.
As for Simon…
A cold glimmer flickered in Seraphin’s eyes as he looked at the pitiful figure before him, bound and beaten, his silence echoing.
In another life, Seraphin had questioned Simon’s loyalty too, understanding he came from the royal family. Supporting the crown prince wasn’t likely new behavior for Simon.
But Simon had always been passionate and noble, coming from a lineage of scholars who honored the military. This earned him the respect of the soldiers under Seraphin's command. He never seemed the type to engage in such treachery. How could he have raised a snake in his garden?
Previously, Simon had disappeared right before Seraphin's last campaign, only to reappear at court, revealing Seraphin’s forces to the emperor, sabotaging the plans they had worked so hard on.
“I offer you a chance to explain,” Seraphin said, his voice steady and commanding.
Bound and defeated, Simon slowly raised his head. The moment his eyes met Seraphin's, tears mingled with a wry smile as he replied, “I had no choice.”
He remained a scholar at heart, maintaining his grace even while trapped, refusing to behave like the typical soldiers who shouted and raged.
Grant roared in anger, “Simon! Your master has treated you well. How could you let it come to this?”
Simon merely smiled and fell silent. After five days in confinement, he had endured every torture imaginable, realizing his once-perfect plans had unraveled.
Seraphin, unaffected by Simon’s demeanor, kept his thoughts sharp as he replied, “Not speaking doesn’t mean I won’t find out. Did the royal family threaten you through your mother? You, an illegitimate son with a newfound opportunity, must have caught the Crown Prince’s eye. It’s only natural he wouldn’t let you escape.”
Pause hung heavy in the air as Seraphin’s gaze hardened, piercing straight into Simon's heart. “But why didn't you seek my help? Did you think I would turn you away?”

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