CHAPTER 194: CHAPTER 195: DUKE’S AMBITION

The night had a weight to it, thick and almost tangible, pressing against the white marble of the Leonidus Palace.

Aiden stepped through the grand gates, the echo of his boots swallowed by the velvet silence of corridors.

His white tunic, once flawless, now bore the subtle blemish of black hairs, faint reminders of his prior guise. The makeup, the mask, the name Lucifer—they were all gone. For now, he was simply Aiden again.

Inside, the air carried the familiar sweetness of polished wood and glowing hearths, mingling with the faint chill that seeped through the tall, arched windows.

Tanya and Akidna waited at the door. They bowed low, their faces calm but eyes alert—the eyes of those who served power but remembered when it served them, but with a hint of want, with a hint of lust.

The soft rustle of their skirts, the faint brush of their hands against his coat, the delicate motion of unfastening clasps and layers—all of it carried an intimacy built over nights and nights of shared beds.

They stripped away his priestly garments, folding them neatly with practiced care, and removed his other implements: the chain that hung heavy around his neck, the crystal that had guided his false divinity now showing a small, nearly imperceptible crack.

A small warning—or perhaps a promise—that its time was nearing an end. Soon, he would need another, and he hoped that Aros, his silent partner in subversion, would deliver the next batch in time.

Aiden sank into the familiar embrace of the sofa, the leather cool beneath him. He inhaled slowly, letting the scent of the palace wrap around him like a protective cloak.

Once, this very room had felt larger than life—every inch of it echoing with commands and secrets not meant for him.

The echo of Catherine’s laughter still lingered in the corners, mingling with the cold fragrance of old incense. But now, those echoes bowed to him.

In the past, this seat had been the throne of service—he had waited upon Augustus, Catherine, Sabrina, bending to their whims as a butler, a servant of their lives and their ambitions. Now, the weight of command settled lightly on his shoulders.

The servants and knights obeyed him, whether they knew it or not. The palace itself had shifted under his presence; he did not merely occupy it—he owned its air, its shadows, the quiet heartbeat of its walls.

Pride rose in his chest, warming the hollow places that the last week of deception had carved. And yet, beneath it, a subtle restlessness stirred, like a river hidden under ice, waiting to break through.

There was more to come, more to conquer, more to bend to the quiet will he had honed like a blade. He closed his eyes, just for a moment, letting the calm of the space wash over him.

Then—a sound.

A faint rhythm of footsteps, soft as silk against marble. He did not need to turn. The scent reached him first: lavender and candlewax, faint perfume and fear.

"...Luna, you are still awake?" His voice was quiet, the words slicing through the silence like a scalpel.

From the shadowed corridor, Luna appeared. Red twintails framed her golden eyes, wide and glistening. Her thin sleeping wear clung to her frame, the fabric shimmering faintly in the firelight. The sight of her—fragile, trembling, beautiful—was a strange comfort.

She moved closer, settling beside him with a small, trembling grace, and he could feel the pulse of her heartbeat through the light brush of her hand against his arm.

"What happened...?" His words were soft, but deliberate, reaching for the truth that trembled in her.

She leaned against his chest, shoulders quivering. He brushed a hand through her hair, catching the warmth of her tears. Her voice was a thread.

"It’s Flora," she whispered. "She... she said after your marriage with her, she would never let me... have you."

Aiden’s lips curved into a faint smile—kind, almost indulgent, but there was calculation behind it. "It’s not her right to decide. You know that. What I say... goes. Simple enough."

Her eyes searched his, hesitant. "Y-yes... you would never let me go, right?"

"No," he said firmly. The word carried the weight of inevitability. "Never."

In the quiet shadow of his mind, another thought flickered, sharp and cold: ’Because you have future use as well.’ He did not voice it, letting the sentiment remain unspoken, yet heavy between them.

"Aiden... you can keep me as a concubine. Don’t worry, I won’t marry anyone else. I’m... only yours."

Her voice cracked, the declaration carrying both defiance and surrender.

"I know, love." He pressed a kiss to her forehead, soft but possessive, marking territory and promise both. "Oh, Luna... tell me something."

"Y-yes?" Her voice was small, almost a whisper.

"What is your father, the Duke, up to these days? He must have told you something, unlike your mother..."

Her lips parted, hesitation flitting across her features. "...hmmm... actually I should not—"

"Luna." His tone dropped, measured, but sharp enough to cut through the pause.

She winced slightly, lowering her gaze. "...Sorry.... He once said, when he was drunk, that he was going to be emperor. Said he would kill the Arch Dukes... one by one....or something, gibberish..."

Aiden’s eyes snapped open. The words cut through the quiet like a blade through silk. The Duke—ambitious, ruthless, cunning—but this?

The air grew heavier. The fire flickered lower. He could hear his own heartbeat in the hollow between them.

He leaned back, gaze unfocused, thoughts spinning. The Duke’s reach was longer than he’d believed. Emperor? The idea should have been absurd, but the Duke was not a man who spoke idly, even in drink.

And there was his demonic nature—Aiden remembered. The demon’s mark that lingered on the Duke like a shadow that could not be washed off. A pact of power, sealed in blood and deceit.

Aiden exhaled slowly. "When he said this... what else did he mention?"

"Nothing more. Just that the Arch Dukes have forgotten their place. That... that demons can be reasoned with, if one knows how to listen." Her tone trembled as though even repeating the words might invite ruin.

He closed his eyes, a pulse of cold clarity slicing through him.

’The fall of the Empire... it wasn’t random. It was orchestrated.’

The Duke’s ambition, his hunger—they were fires feeding one another.

And yet... Aiden saw the opportunity gleaming like a blade in that chaos.

"Dangerous, isn’t it?" Luna asked softly, as though the truth might shatter if spoken aloud.

Aiden’s hand drifted to her hair, brushing the strands behind her ear. "Dangerous?" he repeated. "Yes. But power without risk is no power at all. The Empire teaches you that much."

His gaze darkened, blue eyes glinting in the firelight. "And someone has to stand above the chaos—to bend it, or be crushed beneath it....sadly thats the nature of the game love."

A tremor ran through him as he recalled past nights: serving Augustus, listening to secrets meant for kings, learning every inflection of fear and pride.

He had learned patience from servitude, ruthlessness from humility. Every humiliation had been a lesson.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, voice quiet but commanding.

Luna’s golden eyes met his, trembling but steady. "With my life," she whispered. "With everything I am."

He smiled faintly, the expression like the drawing of a sword—precise, inevitable. "Good. Then you will understand the burdens that come with ambition... and the pleasures."

Outside, the wind shifted, carrying the low moan of distant bells. The hour before dawn—the hour when ghosts and truth walked together.

She tilted her head. "And you, Aiden? Do you fear him? My father?"

A shadow passed across his face. "Fear?" He laughed softly, almost inaudibly. "Fear is for those who kneel, who pray to gods that do not listen. I do not kneel. I do not pray. I bend. I claim.... I survive."

He could almost see the path stretching before him: the Duke’s rising ambition, the Arch Dukes’ arrogance, the Church’s failing hold, and himself—a quiet force between them all.

He would use Luna. Use Flora. Use the cracks in the Empire itself.

But beneath the thought, something else stirred—a flash of doubt, quiet as the flicker of a dying flame. ’but I can’t drown in my own arrogance, fearlessness has its own toxicity.....no, I should act nonetheless.’

He dismissed it. Doubt was a luxury. The world didn’t bend for those who hesitated.

"Tell me everything your father has whispered," he murmured. "Every ambition, every threat. Nothing is trivial."

Luna hesitated, then whispered, "...He said if the Arch Dukes don’t yield, they will die. The Empire is his chessboard, and everyone else... expendable."

Aiden’s lips tightened. "Then he plays a dangerous game.... partnering with demons and playing with god like beings like the Arch dukes ....but, i stay still and just watch ..."

Luna looked up, eyes wide, her voice barely audible. "And what will you become in that game?"

He smiled, not cruelly but with a quiet certainty that chilled the air between them. "The hand that moves the pieces, of course..."

For a long moment, neither spoke. The fire whispered in the grate; outside, snow began to fall, small flakes dissolving against the windowpane like forgotten prayers.

Luna shifted closer, resting her head against him. "I just... don’t want you to disappear in it all."

"I won’t," he said softly. "I’ve spent too long pretending to be light. Now it’s time the shadows remembered my name."

The cracked crystal on the table caught the dying firelight, gleaming faintly, as if listening. The fracture within it pulsed once, like a heartbeat—fragile, defiant, waiting.

Aiden’s gaze lingered on it. A symbol of what he had built—power sustained by deception, brilliance shadowed by decay.

Soon, the crystal would shatter. And when it did, something else would awaken.

He reached out, brushing Luna’s hair back once more, and whispered, "Sleep. Tomorrow, the game changes."

"Sleep?...but, I am still not tired.." she said, ever so innocently, her hand reaching his pants, right on the zipper.

"...oh Luna, and here I thought you loved foreplay first..."

"...I just missed you, you don’t wanna?"

"..I would never..." He replied, pulling down her dress.