CHAPTER 51: SECRET MEETING

Time moved slower that evening, every minute stretching thin with anticipation. Edward spent it seated at the table, his thoughts tangled in the soldier’s words. Aeris and Seraphine watched him from across the room, the weight of the silence between them growing heavier with every tick of the clock.

When the hour grew late, he finally broke it.

"You two need to act normal while I’m gone," he said, his voice steady, though his eyes betrayed the current of unease beneath. "Don’t change your routine. Don’t give them any reason to suspect something’s off. If patrols come close, keep calm. They can’t know I left."

Aeris gave a small nod, lips pressed thin. Seraphine looked less convinced, her worry plain, but she offered no protest.

"Edward..." Aeris said quietly, "be careful."

He didn’t answer, only stood and reached for his cloak. The plan was set. There was no turning back now.

The air outside struck him with a crisp bite, the chill of the night settling over Ashenhold. The streets were dimly lit, lanterns flickering weakly as the last remnants of daily bustle lingered. Merchants packed away their stalls, tired voices drifting faintly before fading into the night. Families hurried home, doors closing one by one, until the town gradually quieted. The cold seemed to drive them all inside, leaving only the soldiers to claim the streets.

Edward pulled the hood lower over his head as he stepped into the night.

A few paces away, the soldier he had spoken with earlier paced up and down the street, his steps restless, shoulders tense. The man’s anxious energy radiated into the air, so obvious it drew unwanted attention. Edward sighed under his breath.

"He couldn’t look more suspicious if he tried." Edward thought before turning away, quickening his pace.

The chief’s building loomed in the distance, its darkened windows hollow against the faint glow of lantern light. Edward avoided the main road, weaving instead through side alleys, his boots careful on the cobblestones.

It didn’t take long for the patrols to make themselves known.

A flicker of torchlight swept across the street ahead, forcing Edward to duck into the shadow of a narrow passage. His pulse thudded in his ears as two soldiers strode past, their armor clinking softly, the rhythm of their boots striking like a drumbeat against stone.

He waited until their steps faded before slipping back into the open.

Time and again, the pattern repeated. Patrols cut across his path like hounds circling prey. Each time, Edward pressed against walls, hid behind barrels, or lingered in shadow until the danger passed. The cold night stretched endlessly, every second in hiding drawing out his nerves tighter.

Finally, he reached the rear of the chief’s building. The stone structure loomed tall, its edges swallowed in darkness. Edward crouched low behind a stack of crates, his breath misting faintly in the night air.

And then—movement.

The door creaked open, spilling a thin blade of lamplight into the street. Edward held his breath.

A figure stepped out.

Auren.

The chief wore plain clothes, simple and unadorned, his face partially shadowed beneath the hood he drew up as he left. His movements were brisk, purposeful, and Edward could already see the tension in the way his head turned slightly—too often, too sharply—as if he expected to be followed.

Edward lingered until Auren put distance between them, then slid silently from his cover and followed after him.

The path wound through the narrow arteries of Ashenhold.

Auren moved like a shadow, hugging walls, slipping between torchlight, avoiding the heart of the streets. Twice he glanced behind him, sharp and sudden, but Edward melted into corners before the man’s eyes could find him.

Edward’s muscles tensed with every glance back, the question forming sharper each time.

"He’s more paranoid than that damn solider!" Edward thought, but quickly pushed the thought aside and increased his distance.

The streets thinned the farther they went, the lamps growing sparse, the noise of the town fading into silence. Edward recognized where they were headed—the very outskirts of Ashenhold.

And at last, they arrived.

A lonely building sat at the edge of the town, its windows dark, shutters drawn tight. The stone looked worn, abandoned even, yet something about it stood out. It didn’t look neglected—it appeared concealed.

Edward’s gaze sharpened.

The rear door of the building opened, and from it stepped a figure clad in familiar armour. The very same kind the soldier had worn since Auren’s rise to power.

Edward’s stomach sank as he watched the two men meet.

The figure offered a subtle bow, and Auren clasped his arm like an equal. Without speaking a single word, the two of them disappeared inside the dark building.

Edward’s brow furrowed, his thoughts a storm of questions.

"Why would a chief meet one of his soldiers this far from the town square? In secret, under the cover of night? Why not meet in his office—or in the barracks like every other commander?"

Something felt off, utterly off.

He shifted closer, edging along the wall of an alley to find a vantage point, but then—

A sudden bark broke the silence.

WOOF!

Edward stiffened, his head snapping toward the noise. A stray dog, scraggly and half-starved, padded into view, its eyes fixed on him.

"Dammit," Edward hissed under his breath.

The dog barked again, louder this time. The sound split through the quiet like a blade, echoing along the empty streets.

Edward swore silently and pulled back, retreating before the noise could draw attention. His heart hammered as he slipped into the shadows, every instinct urging him away from the building before a guard came to investigate.

The return journey was no easier.

Patrols grew denser, as if the soldiers multiplied in his absence. Edward slipped between alleys, flattened against walls, paused in silence while armored men trudged past. The cold air weighed heavier, and every shadow stretched darker as midnight neared.

Finally, after what felt like hours, he reached the street that led to the townhouse. Relief crept faintly into his chest.

But it froze as soon as he looked ahead.

A lone figure paced up and down the street, his steps measured, his form new and unfamiliar.

Edward’s breath caught.

"The change must’ve already happened..."

He scanned the street again, but found no sign of the soldier he had spoken with earlier.

"Where the hell is he..." Edward muttered under his breath.

The night pressed heavier around him as the question lingered, and the silence of the street swallowed the words whole.