CHAPTER 18: THE WIND

Dust choked the slightly dark yet spacious room. Aric strode to the window and pulled the curtains wide, letting sunlight pierce into the dining hall. Like every other chamber in the estate, it was vast—befitting the home of a prince, though it rarely felt like one to him.

He turned from the window to face Serina and Lerai, who sat around the long dining table, summoned at Aric’s request for an urgent meeting.

"I apologize. This room hasn’t been used in some time," he said, brushing the dust from the air with his hand.

Crossing to the side of the hall, Aric paused at an oddly placed bookshelf. He pulled a book free, wondering when it had been set there—and why anyone had thought it fit for a dining hall.

"Before we begin," Serina cut in, her gaze sharp and searching, "what the hell happened to you?"

"What do you mean?" Aric feigned ignorance.

But he knew. He’d seen it in the mirror before leaving his chamber. Gone was his frail, skeletal frame; in its place stood defined muscle. His hair had grown richer, his face fuller.

"You look much more handsome and healthy, Your Highness," Lerai added with a smile, appealing to Aric’s vanity.

"Yes... very strange," Serina murmured, rubbing her chin, still scrutinizing him.

"Enough," Aric raised a hand to silence them. "We have more pressing matters."

Serina, curious since the moment she’d arrived, leaned back. "Then please, go on."

"The Emperor has ordered me to travel to the Byzeth Kingdom and suppress any thought of rebellion," Aric declared, leaning against a nearby desk.

"So—you are to lead an army?" Serina asked, echoing the question Aric himself had once posed.

"That’s the problem. I am to accomplish this without a single soldier from the Empire."

Serina’s brows knit, confusion mirrored in Lerai’s expression.

"Then he expects you to negotiate?" Lerai ventured.

"Perhaps." Aric shrugged. "But I have no such plans. Their lesson will be taught through fear... I will have their king’s head."

The two exchanged a look. They did not doubt the prince’s ruthlessness, but his ability to act alone was another matter.

"How are we supposed to achieve that? At the banquet, I heard their king had reached the Martial Master Realm—not even counting the rest of Byzeth’s strength," Serina said.

Aric’s lips curved as a glint lit his eyes. He straightened from the desk and paced forward.

"There once was a mountain. It was so tall and large that it cast a shadow over the entire valley below it." Aric stretched his hand as if to display the mountain’s enormous size. "It was mighty and strong, with peaks that pierced the heavens and roots buried deep into the earth. No power could break it, no strength could topple it... and so it lived like that."

Aric turned, gazing outside the window at the vast land of his estate.

"One day, a gentle breeze, barely more than a whisper, began to blow through. The wind was weak, not even strong enough to rustle leaves or carry a scent. The mountain, in all its might, paid no mind. It had no reason to—after all, a breath of air was insignificant against its strength."

Aric turned back toward Serina and Lerai, who now stared at him, listening intently.

"But the breeze was patient, you see... persistent. Each day it blew, weaving its way through the cracks and crevices of the great mountain. It found the tiniest openings in the stone and whispered through them. It didn’t push against the mountain, only touched it in ways the mountain couldn’t resist."

Aric walked closer, slowly approaching them.

"Days became months, and months became years. With the wind’s persistence, the soil loosened around trees, causing them to fall. Grains of sand were blown away, and stone was polished until it was smooth and fragile." Aric raised his hand. "And yet, the mountain still stood tall. But in its depths, there were cracks. Still, the mountain didn’t see the wind as a threat. However, through persistence—by chipping away slowly at its core and foundation—after many years, the great mountain could bear it no more."

"Cracks formed at its base, splitting the mountain in two. With a thunderous roar of defeat, the once-immovable mountain was reduced to rubble and dust. And the wind? Well, it blew through the fallen stone and whispered through the valley."

Aric stayed silent for a moment, as though to let his words simmer, before asking, "Do you understand?" The prince gazed at them, half expecting he would need to further elaborate.

Serina spoke first. "We don’t confront them head-on. We can’t."

"We find the cracks," Lerai continued, rubbing his chin. "Exploit what they can’t protect, until they weaken."

"Seeds of distrust. Assassinations. Whispers of betrayal and tyranny..." Serina added, her voice steady now. "We make them crumble from within. And when they are at their weakest—"

"We finish it," Aric concluded, grinning.

Their thoughts aligned with his, and satisfaction warmed him. This meeting was proving far more productive than he’d hoped.

Suddenly, shouts and commotion rose from outside. Harsh voices, angry and familiar, carried through the open window.

Aric turned and peered outside. There, facing off against his guards, stood the furious figure of the third prince—Darius.

Delight tugged at Aric’s expression. "What brilliant timing." He turned back to his companions. "Let’s pause here. I must greet a very important guest."