CHAPTER 199: ARCANA REGIA [1]

Alaric walked back through the market square.

The evening crowd had thinned slightly.

Vendors beginning to pack up for the day. The golden light deepening toward amber as the sun sank lower in the horizon.

He stopped in front of a larger establishment. Three stories. Well-maintained facade. Quality goods displayed in the windows.

This’ll do.

He pushed through the door. A bell chimed overhead.

The interior was spacious.

Organized racks of clothing lined the walls. Fabrics sorted by type and color. A proper merchant’s shop rather than a market stall.

An older man looked up from behind the counter. His eyes tracked Alaric’s cloak.

"Good evening, sir. How may I assist you?"

"I need a hat. Something with a wide brim." Alaric moved deeper into the shop. His eyes scanning the inventory.

"Dark colored. And clothes."

The shopkeeper nodded. Already moving toward specific sections and pulled down several options.

A wide-brimmed hat in dark brown. Another in black. Simple tunics and trousers in muted colors, grays, browns, nothing flashy.

"And a scarf." Alaric added.

"Ah. Dust protection. Smart." The shopkeeper produced several scarves. Thick wool. Long enough to wrap multiple times.

Alaric selected them quickly. Tried on the black hat, fit well, brim shadowing his features nicely. Chose a dark gray tunic and black trousers. Two scarves, one brown, one deep charcoal.

As he adjusted the hat, his eyes caught his reflection in a full-length mirror positioned near the fitting area.

He paused. Studied himself.

Damn.

His lips curved into a smirk.

Even the simple clothing somehow made him look more striking rather than less.

"Being handsome has its own benefits."

He said it quietly. Just to himself. Amused, thinking about how delphine practically melted with one touch.

His smirk widened slightly.

He turned away from the mirror. Gathered his selections.

The shopkeeper tallied everything. Named a price.

Alaric paid without haggling.

"Pleasure doing business, sir."

"Likewise."

He tucked the purchases under his arm. Stepped back out into the evening air.

He made his way back through increasingly empty streets. Toward where he’d left the carriage.

It waited exactly where he’d instructed. The coachman standing beside the horses. Alert but patient.

"Young master." The man straightened. Moved to open the door.

"Back to the manor."

"Of course."

Alaric climbed inside. Settled into the cushioned seat. Set his purchases beside him.

The door closed. The carriage rocked slightly as the coachman climbed up to the driver’s seat.

Then with the familiar lurch, they started moving.

Clop! Clop! Clop!

Alaric leaned back. Let his head rest against the seat.

His fingers drummed once against his thigh.

Outside the window, Gramwell’s streets passed by. Giving way to open road. Then eventually the familiar approach to Glimor Manor.

The carriage rolled through the gates.

Creak!

The vehicle came to a stop. The door opened. Alaric stepped down. His boots hit solid ground.

The evening had deepened into early dusk. The manor’s windows glowed with lamplight from within.

A servant appeared immediately. Young. Attentive.

"Young master. Welcome back."

Alaric gestured toward the bundled purchases still inside the carriage.

"Take these to my quarters."

"Of course, young master."

The servant retrieved the items with quick efficiency. Bowed. Hurried toward the entrance.

Alaric stood there for a moment. Breathing in the evening air. The scent of gardens mixing with distant cooking from the kitchens.

Then he turned. Toward the training room.

He reached the door. His hand found the iron knob. Twisted.

Click!

Pushed it open.

The interior was spacious. High ceiling. Weapon racks along the walls. Training dummies positioned at intervals. Open floor space for sparring.

And Elina.

She stood in the center. Her back to him.

Sweat dripped down her neck. Soaked into her training clothes, simple tunic and trousers that clung to her frame.

Her scarlet hair was pulled back but strands had escaped. Stuck to her damp skin.

Her hands were clenched into fists at her sides. Trembling slightly from sustained effort.

Golden light emanated from them. The air around her shimmered slightly. Heat radiating outward.

"Why are you here?"

Her voice cut through the silence.

She didn’t turn around. Didn’t look at him.

Just kept her focus straight ahead. Her glowing fists held steady.

Alaric closed the door behind him. He shrugged. Even though she couldn’t see it.

"Just wanted to train."

His tone stayed casual. Easy.

Elina scoffed. Then she moved and walked toward the side of the training area where a water canteen sat on a bench.

Her essence flickered out. The glow fading from her hands as she released the technique.

She grabbed the canteen. Uncorked it. Took a long drink.

Water ran down her chin. She wiped it away with the back of her hand.

Then turned her head slightly. Just enough that he could see her profile.

Her golden eyes caught the lamplight. Sharp. Dismissive.

"Don’t get in my way, weakling."

She said coldly.

She stood up. Stretched her arms overhead. Her spine arched. Joints popping softly.

Like he wasn’t even worth her attention anymore.

Alaric’s lips twitched. Irritation flickered across his features.

"Oi, girl. Who are you calling weakling?"

His voice carried an edge now, carrying a warning.

Elina didn’t even look at him. Just rolled her shoulders. Flexed her fingers.

"I don’t need to repeat myself, bastard." Her tone stayed flat. Bored. "You heard me the first time."

She turned slightly. Just enough to glance at him from the corner of her eye.

"What are you going to do about it? Cry? Run to Mother?" A smirk spread across her lips.

"Oh wait, you already avoid her whenever possible. Coward."

Her eyes narrowed with contempt.

"You’re pathetic. Always have been. Playing at being competent while everyone else does the real work." She turned away again. "Stay out of my way. You’ll just embarrass yourself."

Something in Alaric’s composure cracked.

His hand moved. Grabbed the clasp of his cloak. Yanked it free.

The fabric fell away.

"You’re going overboard."

His voice came low. Dangerous.

He rolled his shoulders. Loosened his stance.

"As much as I don’t want to raise a hand against my beautiful sister..." His crimson eyes locked onto her back. "I won’t think twice if you keep looking down on me."

Elina turned around then. Fully. Slowly.

Her head tilted. Expression shifting from dismissive to something darker. More challenging.

"Oh?" Her lips curved. "Are you threatening me?"

She took a step forward. Her golden eyes blazing now.

"Do you actually have what it takes? Or are you all talk like usual?"

That was it.

Flames erupted across Alaric’s palm. Hot enough the air shimmered violently around his hand.

He launched himself forward.

"Apologize!"

But Elina didn’t flinch.

Just stood there. Watching him come.

That smirk still on her face.

Her hand came up. Two fingers raised near her temple.

Alaric then pulled his burning fist back. Ready to strike, not to hurt, just to make a point, to force her to back down—

Her lips moved. Barely a whisper.

"The Sever."

A card materialized between them out of nowhere.

Black. Shimmering with golden light.

She threw it like a discus. Rotating so fast it screamed through the air.

Whiiiiiing!

Alaric’s eyes widened. Instinct kicked in.

His burning fist came up. To block. To burn through it.

But just as the card touched his hand.

His fire vanished.

Not extinguished. Not smothered.

Just—gone.

Like it had never existed.

"What the—"

Crack!

Elina’s fist drove into his face before the words finished forming.

The impact rang out like a gunshot in the enclosed space.

Alaric’s head snapped to the side. His entire body followed the momentum.

He flew backward.

Crash!

Then slammed into the training dummies lined against the wall.

Wood splintered. The dummy he hit exploded into fragments. The ones beside it toppled like dominoes.

Thud!

He hit the ground.

Then with a groan, he pushed himself up slightly. One arm bracing against the floor.

Blood dripped from his mouth.

More blood trickled from his nose. He could taste copper. Feel the throbbing ache spreading through his entire jaw.

What the fuck!

His vision swam slightly.

Elina stood exactly where she’d been. Hand still raised. That cruel smirk widening into a full grin now.

Her eyes practically glowed with satisfaction.

"What’s wrong, weakling?" Her voice carried mock concern. "Can’t even take one hit?"

She lowered her hand slowly. Deliberately.

"I thought you were going to make me apologize." She grinned like she’d finally proven something she’d been waiting to prove for a long time.