Chapter 1
In mid-February, a sharp clattering sound echoed through the opulent Cloudstone Keep, the residence of Empress Isabella. Her attendants knelt nervously on the polished floor, having not witnessed the Empress’s rage erupt so fiercely in quite some time. Inside the grand hall, the striking figure of Empress Isabella, adorned in luxurious robes that accentuated her graceful form, glared down at the young Princess standing defiantly in the center of the chamber. “Get out of Chesterfield,” she commanded, her voice laced with fury. The young Princess maintained her composure, undaunted by Isabella's wrath. With a respectful bow, she retreated from the hall. Moments later, Empress Isabella issued a decree: “Lady Arabella and Sir Cedric are to proceed to their domain immediately. They must not return without my summons.” Sir Cedric, clad in a vibrant red embroidered robe, bore an uncanny resemblance to Empress Isabella, not only in her delicate facial features but also in the soft curve of her pink lips. Anyone observing would immediately recognize the familial connection between them. Lord William, a watchful aide, furrowed his brow. He knew Lady Arabella had always been a favorite of Empress Isabella, so this sudden shift was perplexing. As Sir Cedric prepared to leave, she gave him a warm smile, “Lord William, please take good care of Her Majesty.” Lord William dutifully escorted her out, watching as she stretched languidly and departed from the palace. Meanwhile, news reached the Empress’s inner court, causing Lady Josephine to pause mid-gesture as she picked a flower. With a cold smile, she remarked, “Let them put on their little show.” Princess Gwendolyn, intrigued yet amazed, asked, “Father, what do you mean? The court rumors say Mother has grown tired of Sir Cedric.” In sharp contrast, Sir Edmund, who wore ornate robes that reflected his noble heritage, loomed close. He held a well-known grudge against Sir Cedric, stemming from the latter’s royal status as one of the Empress's illegitimate offspring. Suppressing his frustration, he explained, “You only see her reprimanding Sir Cedric. You’re overlooking that she’s sending her to Daleshire for practical experience. With such talent at Havenbrook Academy, this is the Empress's way of securing her successor.” Princess Gwendolyn clenched her fists. She was aware of her mother's fondness for Daleshire, but to think the position of heir might go to her was unsettling. Sir Edmund glanced at her knowingly. Aware of her temperament, he advised, “You should return and review the court documents. Your mother expects you to shoulder some responsibilities. Don't let her down.” With a quiet acknowledgment, Princess Gwendolyn lowered her head and left the hall. Lady Arabella, known as the daughter of the esteemed General Sir Quentin, actually held a secret of her own: she was the biological child of Lady Seraphina, Empress Isabella's confidante. Due to past commitments, Sir Quentin vowed never to enter the inner palace, causing Sir Cedric to be widely perceived as the court’s “illegitimate child.” Despite this, Empress Isabella's reputation prevented open gossip, allowing whispers to circulate behind closed doors. Daleshire was among the wealthiest regions in the South, a fertile realm abundant in fish and rice, situated not far from the Capital and acting as a vital trade gateway to the southern cities. Typically, such a prosperous area would not easily be granted as a fief owing to its substantial tax contributions. Yet, to everyone’s surprise, Empress Isabella bestowed this estate upon a mere young princess. The people of Daleshire were known for their fierce independence. Even in prosperous southern lands, the bustling economy had drawn a rich tapestry of diverse influences and lifestyles. They were far from welcoming an inexperienced young royal to stake her claim on their territory. So, in response, townsfolk rallied together at Daleshire’s city gate to blockade the young princess's carriage, hoping to send her scurrying back to the palace. As March approached, the weather remained brisk. With a procession consisting of sixty-eight carriages, one hundred and fifty beautiful attendants, and a contingent of guards for protection, Sir Cedric’s journey to her new fief was nothing short of grand.
Chapter 2
The carriage was packed to the brim with belongings—if she could, Sir Cedric would’ve brought the entire family tomb of the Alaric dynasty along. After all, they couldn’t let anything be too taxing for Lady Seraphina. Chewing on a handful of frozen jade grapes delivered from the western provinces, Sir Cedric lazily lifted her eyelids just enough to ask, “Where are we?” Mistress Agnes pushed open the carriage window to take a peek outside. “We’re ten miles outside of Daleshire now. Just a bit further and we’ll be in the city.” Having served as Seraphina’s attendant since her childhood, Agnes couldn’t help but notice the weariness etched on her face from the long journey. “Why don’t you take a quick nap, my lady? We’ll be there before you know it.” Sir Cedric responded with a grunted “hmm,” slowly closing her eyes. This wasn’t a tiring journey at all. The interior of Sir Cedric’s carriage was lined with sumptuous snow fox fur, crafted to ensure a smooth ride for her ladyship. The carriage itself was built from sturdy mahogany, soundproof, and stocked with all sorts of snacks and sweet treats—an indulgent pleasure for her. However, in less than a tea’s worth of time, ruckus erupted outside. Sir Cedric stirred, irritation flaring as she asked, “What’s going on out there?” As Agnes helped her put on her shoes, she replied, “The townsfolk of Daleshire are clamoring to meet you, my lady.” Sir Cedric scoffed, already aware of Daleshire’s restless nature; she hadn’t expected them to kick up a fuss even before they entered the city. Today, under a bright sun, nearly half the citizens of Daleshire jammed the city gates, apparently intent on making a point to their new princess. Voices clashed until a magnificent ornate carriage was pushed aside, revealing the young Empress Isabella, regal in her embroidered dragon robe. Balancing a heavy crown upon her head, she stood confidently with a smile, her delicate features glowing like a peach blossom. “Dear townsfolk, would you have the courtesy to wait for me to enter before your warm welcomes? Daleshire surely feels shame for this disruption.” Most of the citizens were rowdy and unruly, and someone in the crowd yelled, “Who does this Empress think she is? Go back to Chesterfield and drink your milk! Don’t interfere with Daleshire!” The rest chimed in, as if it were an unspoken rule to block her entry. With a piercing gaze, Sir Cedric swept over the unruly crowd. “You all are subjects of The Grand Order, and it’s worth noting that Daleshire is known as the 'Little Capital'. Keep in mind, it is not the innocent who suffer for holding something precious. If this unrest continues, know that His Majesty will send troops to maintain order. How will you survive then?” Her words rang true, bringing a sense of unease to the instigators. Gradually, a quiet began to settle over the crowd. With a cold smile, Sir Cedric watched some individuals from the western sector slowly retreat. “Ignorant commoners, they know not what they’re doing.” Following that day’s ruckus at the city gates, the county governor arrived with silver and servants to offer an apology. Sir Cedric accepted their gifts with a smile, saying little more. Daleshire was not only affluent but also home to scholars of The Grand Order, with Havenbrook Academy being particularly renowned, rivaling the prestigious academies in Chesterfield. Tasked to foster relations with the academy, Sir Cedric pondered for a while before inviting the governor to accompany her to Havenbrook. Standing beneath a snow-laden pear tree, a strand of her hair got caught in a low branch. Tilting her head slightly, she allowed Mistress Agnes to free her. As she did so, her eyes fell upon Lord Alaric. The young man clad in a cerulean robe was diligently grinding ink at a table, exuding an air of concentration. He was handsomely charming, more so than any Lord Alaric she had encountered back in Chesterfield. Captivated by beauty, she felt drawn to this exquisite figure, compounded by her fondness for the color blue—the boy in his azure robes was like a living piece of ink-wash art. Just as Mistress Agnes finished tidying her hair, she caught a glimpse of the lovely flush upon Seraphina’s cheeks, and thought to herself whether today’s blush was a tad too much. Suddenly, Sam Cedric’s soft voice broke the silence, “Agnes, go ask who that young man is, busy grinding ink in there.”
Chapter 3
Mistress Agnes, with her keen insights honed from the court, quickly gathered all there was to know about Lord Alaric. The young man, referred to as Lord Alaric of Daleshire, was on the cusp of adulthood at 19. Sir Cedric, biting his lip in contemplation, asked, “If he’s nearly an adult, why is he still at Havenbrook Academy and not at the elite society’s university?” “Lady Arabella, you may not know, but the Alaric family has always been in trade. This is the first generation eager to take up civil service, yet in the Capital, without connections, how could he possibly gain entry into such a prestigious institution?” Sir Cedric nodded, a sly grin creeping across his face. “Then let’s get myself enrolled at the academy and find a place close to him.” Mistress Agnes nodded, but a thought struck her— it seemed the young lady's heart had been stirred after all the time spent away from the capital. A report to the Empress might be in order. This dynasty valued merit above all, without regard to gender; a capable woman could serve in any role within the government. Thus, education was unique in that both young men and women studied together, creating a vibrant learning atmosphere. March 19 marked Sir Cedric's first day at Havenbrook Academy. She lounged in the carriage, calmly sipping her tea. Mistress Agnes curiously inquired, “Are you not going in?” With a playful smile, Sir Cedric replied, “No rush.” Just then, around the corner, appeared Lord Alaric's figure. He approached with a satchel slung over his shoulder, his hair neatly tied back, and dressed in a light scholarly robe—every bit the studious lad. Calculating her moment, Sir Cedric jumped down from the carriage, unfortunately landing ungracefully on him instead. However, Lord Alaric was rather slight, and the unintended collision resulted in both of them tumbling to the ground. “...” Sir Cedric did not know what to say. With Daleshire’s ripe wealth, it was no surprise she had gained some curves. Lying on top of him, she could feel the warmth of Lord Alaric’s chest beneath her palm. Gently tracing her fingers over the fabric, she could sense the tautness of his muscles beneath. Her heart raced; despite his delicate appearance, Lord Alaric was surprisingly solid. In her musings, a soft grunt came from above, likely a result of her prolonged weight on him. Sir Cedric’s attendant helped her up, and then they lifted Lord Alaric as well. Normally proud and self-assured, she had hoped for a charming meet-cute with the young lord, only to find herself clumsily colliding with a wisp of a boy. Blushing, unsure of how to handle the situation, she stood back, flustered. As she regained her composure, Lord Alaric spoke up, “I’m honored, My Lady.” His voice was like a gentle stream, and when Sir Cedric looked up at him, it felt as if she was gazing into a clear spring, refreshing and full of life, stirring something in her heart. She felt her cheeks warm and waved dismissively. “It’s nothing.” Clearing his throat lightly, Sir Cedric suddenly seemed to realize something. “So, the academy already knows I’m coming?” “Yes, the headmaster announced it yesterday.” Sir Cedric had a commanding presence that often intimidated others, but Lord Alaric responded with calm dignity, showcasing a grounded confidence that piqued her interest. Still maintaining her pride, Sir Cedric hoped to engage him further, yet her words fell awkwardly. “Do you practice martial arts? You feel rather tough.” Mistress Agnes could only frown in dismay, her face half-hidden. Lady Arabella was usually so carefree, yet this time, her words of interest felt rather crude. Lord Alaric stiffened momentarily, contemplating her words. True to character, Sir Cedric was not one to shy away from awkwardness. “The Alaric family engaged Mr. Benedict to promote physical fitness among us.” Sir Cedric realized she had misspoken, but instead found herself increasingly drawn to his composed demeanor. She wasn't about to let this opportunity slip by.
Chapter 4
She feigned nonchalance as she asked, “Lord Alaric, would you be willing to accompany me to find Mr. Benedict?” With a touch of distress etched on her features, she added, “I just arrived at the academy and thought I might seek out someone I’m a bit more familiar with.” If familiarity was the measure, she had exchanged a few words with the principal over the last couple of days, which was certainly more than her knowledge of Lord Alaric. However, Sir Cedric, ambitious as ever, was eager to socialize with him. The young lord lowered his gaze slightly, his face serene. “As you wish, my lady,” he replied. Sir Cedric was confident that her noble background would be advantageous to House Alaric, and he knew Lord Alaric wouldn’t refuse her request. Smiling with a touch of restrained delight, she stepped ahead and made her way into the academy. She had already orchestrated a meeting with Lord Alaric at the same time as Mr. Benedict. For now, she just needed to pay respects to the principal. After exchanging a few brief words, she hastily exited, anxious that Lord Alaric might leave without her. Standing under the shade of a tree, Lord Alaric gazed thoughtfully into the distance. Sir Cedric approached, curiosity piqued. “Young Lord Alaric, what caught your eye?” He responded coolly, “My lady, Mr. Benedict values punctuality, and class has already begun.” Displaying her loyalty, she patted her chest. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this.” Lord Alaric gave a slight nod, and together they knocked on the door. Mr. Benedict, sporting a rugged goatee, peered out with cold eyes. Upon seeing them, he waved dismissively. “Stand at the back.” Sir Cedric widened his eyes in disbelief; even in the royal court, none would dare treat her that way, let alone here. She was ready to confront Mr. Benedict, but unexpectedly, the young lord tugged at her sleeve, shaking his head and walking toward the back wall instead. Despite missing the chance to share a table with such a charming youth for their studies, Sir Cedric found solace in the fact that they would still stand together, which brought him some amusement. Lady Arabella, adorned in elegant robes and with a face like a fresh blossom, turned heads among the knights present. Whispers filled the air. “That’s Lady Arabella. She is truly stunning.” “Rumor has it she’s entangled with the young lord…” “Oh my, has she fallen for Lord Alaric too?” Mr. Benedict slammed his hand on the table, his irritation palpable. “Quiet!” In the sudden silence, Sir Cedric gave a playful tug on Lord Alaric’s sleeve. When the young lord turned his gaze, Sir Cedric grinned broadly. Lord Alaric was puzzled and unsure of what mischief Sir Cedric was plotting. However, he typically preferred to remain silent during class and hesitated to engage. Sir Cedric, undeterred, took things further and subtly traced Lord Alaric’s palm with his fingertips. The tingling sensation rushed through Lord Alaric, and he instinctively clenched his fist, keeping his eyes straight ahead. “My lady…” he murmured. He couldn’t help but feel Sir Cedric was overstepping her boundaries, even getting too familiar in front of others, which only added to his unease about her. Unaware of the young lord’s discontent, Sir Cedric continued to bat her eyelashes and smile playfully. “You pulled my sleeve back earlier!” She referred to Lord Alaric advising her against arguing with Mr. Benedict. He nodded in response, noticing that Sir Cedric had indeed released her hand, and preferred to fall into silence. As Mr. Benedict began lecturing on “The Spring and Autumn Annals,” it became clear that he was an esteemed scholar at the academy, imparting knowledge that was superior to that found in the royal court, which explained why many successful candidates hailed from Havenbrook Academy in recent years. After a brief respite, Sir Cedric began to speak up again mischievously. “Young Lord Alaric, I don’t have a book.” If Mistress Agnes were present, she would undoubtedly be taken aback, for Sir Cedric spent his childhood at court under the wings of Empress Isabella, who personally taught him. He might not have memorized “The Spring and Autumn Annals” verbatim, but he was well-acquainted with its contents. Lady Arabella, smitten, just wanted to chat with him more. However, she had chosen the wrong moment, for Mr. Benedict abruptly hurled a bookmark at her, his voice edged with anger. “Please leave, my lady.” Sir Cedric pouted as his gaze caught the corner of the young lord's lips curving slightly. Rather than feeling annoyed, he found himself enchanted by the young lord’s charm. However, seeing Mr. Benedict genuinely irate, he obediently turned and exited. Lord Alaric watched her graceful figure retreat, narrowing his eyes. While she might not fully carry herself with the decorum expected of a lady, she still respected the scholars and their teachings.
Chapter 5
At Havenbrook Academy, students spent their mornings absorbed in poetry and literature, while the afternoons were dedicated to strategy discussions. With a day off every ten days, their schedules were filled to the brim. When afternoon strategy class arrived, Sir Cedric eagerly awaited in the study, having just enjoyed a meticulously prepared lunch by Mistress Agnes. She had taken care to send some coin to Lord Alaric's original companions, believing that a little financial persuasion would help lighten his aloof demeanor. Before long, Lord Alaric entered the room. He was unperturbed by Sir Cedric's presence, his expression calm as he took a seat and began grinding ink with methodical efficiency. Resting her chin on her hand, Sir Cedric smiled brightly, “Young Lord Alaric, you’re avoiding me.” Lowering his gaze in contemplation, he soon stood and nodded politely, “I salute you, Your Highness.” This unexpected display drew the curious glances of the other students in the study. It was indeed surprising to see Lady Arabella act so grandly. Sir Cedric's impatience grew; she reached out and took hold of Lord Alaric's hand, reproaching him, “What are you doing? You don’t need to bow to me.” He continued to exhibit his indifference, replying coolly, “I thought that was what you wanted, my lady.” Sir Cedric raised her eyebrows, genuinely intrigued, as she examined Lord Alaric’s profile. She had a peculiar habit: the less someone noticed her, the more she sought their attention, only to withdraw when they finally acknowledged her. Lord Alaric's detachment was intended to repel her, yet it only sparked her interest deeper. Tilting her head, she asked, “Young Lord Alaric, could you lend me a brush? I rushed over and forgot mine.” Havenbrook Academy had strict rules against bringing personal attendants, but as a lady of rank, she had her own privileges. Morning sessions sans books and afternoon lessons lacking writing instruments seemed to be turning into a pattern. Lord Alaric winced slightly, wondering what he would forget next time. Nevertheless, he was naturally generous, even towards a lady whose behavior might irk him. After finishing his ink grinding, he placed the ink slab between them, handing her a soft brush and providing a sheet of paper on her desk with an air of knightly service. Sir Cedric cheerfully accepted, brow furrowed as she deliberated what to write. Assuming she was just unused to the finer tools, he opened his mouth to offer an explanation, but before he could say a word, she quickly began to scrawl. He felt a twitch in his brow; her handwriting bore no elegance akin to that of the Empress's daughter, but instead radiated an assertive boldness. She wrote swiftly, and considering the simplicity of the name "Lord," it was evident she was crafting her own name. In fluid motions, Sir Cedric finished penning his love's name, framed within a heart, her voice buzzing with joy, “What do you think?” Lord Alaric could only look away, recognizing that he should temper his expectations of this lady. He offered a calm reply, “Your handwriting is quite good.” “Uh-huh,” she muttered, a hint of dissatisfaction creeping in. “I asked about my drawing, not my writing.” He bit back a smirk; how was that even a drawing? It was simply a haphazard heart shape. With a reluctant nod, he conceded, “The drawing is nice too.” Sir Cedric’s smile bloomed, glowing with delight as she pushed the paper toward him, “This is for you.” Lord Alaric accepted it with quiet composure, fully aware that, regardless of whether he took the gift, this lady would find another way to involve him. As the strategy class shifted its speaker to Mr. Benedict, the discussions on tactics naturally prepared them for future matters of the Great Hall.
There are limited chapters to put here, click the button below to continue reading "Bound by Secrets and Shadows"
(It will automatically jump to the book when you open the app).
❤️Click to read more exciting content❤️