The tension inside the carriage was thick enough to cut with a knife. Neither Charles nor Joseph dared to speak at first, each nursing their own private doubts. Though the clatter of the wooden wheels and the steady hoofbeats of the horse might have comforted them any other day, tonight they only seemed to amplify the uneasy silence.
After a while, Joseph could no longer stand it. He let out a small sigh and broke the hush.
"All right… I know you must have questions," he said. "I can guess how confused you are. Ask me anything."
Charles hesitated, blinking as he chose what to say. Finally, he spoke with quiet resolve. "That hidden base underground—what was it, exactly? Why all the secrecy and cloak-and-dagger stuff?"
"That's one of our special unit's meeting places and hideouts," Joseph explained. "From the outside, it looks like nothing more than a half-collapsed ruin, but inside we've installed hidden mechanisms, labyrinthine passages, and wards. Random intruders won't even realize it's there."
Charles's curiosity sharpened. He pressed further. "So… how on earth did you get involved with this 'special unit'? I never imagined you signing up for something so dangerous."
A faint, wry smile touched Joseph's lips. He shook his head a little, then launched into his tale.
"They recruited me after the incident at sea—two years back," he said softly. "When our ship sank and we somehow survived, all those officials and diplomats drowned. Enemies of my family saw it as the perfect chance to attack me. They blamed me for that tragedy—accused me of failing to protect the delegation, costing the kingdom dearly."
Joseph clenched his fist at the memory, bitterness flashing in his pale-blue eyes. "I was stripped of my diplomatic position, ostracized socially, even placed under house arrest. Eventually, my uncle—Edward Cavendish—stepped in, offering me a new path."
"You mean… that was your way out?" Charles prompted, trying to imagine how Joseph felt back then.
Joseph nodded. "At first, I had no intention of joining any secret unit. I never pictured myself in covert ops. But Uncle Edward gave me reasons I couldn't refuse." A subtle fierceness glowed in his eyes. "He told me if I wanted to regain my standing—and more—this was the way. Above all, he told me if I truly wanted to shape the laws of the realm and deliver real justice… I had to earn the rank of Grand Arbiter."
Charles's brows shot up. "You mean the highest judicial authority in the kingdom? The one with powers to preside over major cases, propose new laws… that 'Grand Arbiter'?"
"Yes," Joseph said, smiling with quiet conviction. "A position that could truly overhaul the justice system, punish corrupt nobles, and bring fairness to everyone in the kingdom. My dream is to secure that authority, to implement genuine reform."
Charles gazed at his friend with newfound respect, having never known Joseph's ambition ran so deep. "I see," he murmured. "But how can you be sure joining the special unit will pave the way for you to become Grand Arbiter?"
Joseph's smile took on a cryptic edge. "It's only the beginning. But I have certain backers—people with enough power and influence to counter the old-guard nobles who resist change."
Charles pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Who are these 'people,' exactly?"
Joseph shrugged, looking apologetic. "All I can say is that they share my vision for a better kingdom. They're prepared to support me without reservation."
For a moment, Charles studied the determined set of Joseph's jaw, thinking he had never quite seen his friend so focused on a singular goal. It was impressive—and a bit intimidating.
Just then, Charles noticed Joseph shifting his legs more than usual, tapping them or rocking them in place. He narrowed his eyes. "What's up with your legs?" he asked in a slightly irritated tone, suspecting Joseph was silently mocking his own injuries.
Joseph gave a slight chuckle. "Oh—I guess I moved them without realizing. I tend to fidget when I talk a lot."
But the mischievous glint in Joseph's eyes and the twitch of his lips said otherwise. He was clearly teasing, prompting Charles to scowl.
"Fine, be that way," Charles muttered. "Just wait until it's your turn to limp around, see how you like it."
Joseph only smirked, feigning innocence with a half-laugh. The casual banter between the two old friends resumed, though the unspoken tensions of the night remained in the background.
Eventually, their carriage drew up smoothly in front of Charles's modest home, lamplight casting two long silhouettes onto the worn stone wall. Joseph carefully helped Charles step down, mindful of his bandaged leg.
"Easy now," Joseph said, voice dropping low with concern. "Your wounds still need rest. Take it slow."
"Thanks," Charles replied gratefully, wincing. He tested the silver-handled cane Joseph had given him. "I'll borrow this for a day or two. You'll come by in the morning?"
"Count on it," Joseph affirmed.
"Right… see you tomorrow, then."
With Joseph's nod of farewell, Charles turned and hobbled into his house, exhaustion pressing heavily on him. Joseph stood watching until Charles's figure vanished from sight, then climbed back into the carriage, instructing the driver to return home. The lonely hush of night swallowed him as he departed.
...
Once inside his dim cottage, Charles made straight for his cramped bedroom. Lighting a single candle, he shrugged off his jacket and hung it on a chair, then sat down, breathing out in weariness. He reached for a slip of paper wedged between the pages of an old tome. In the glimmer of moonlight seeping through the window, he traced the words partially visible on it:
"Proph… ecy…?" he murmured, brow furrowing.
Fatigue and lingering pain wore him down. Leaning on the desk, he felt his eyelids droop. Before he realized it, he fell asleep in that position—candle still sputtering feebly in the quiet darkness.
...
Meanwhile, at the grand Cavendish manor, the night was serene, the silence broken only by a whisper of cool breeze drifting across the lavish halls. Moonbeams spilled onto the marble floors. Moments later, Joseph's carriage wheeled in, the golden glow of interior lamps greeting him like a warm embrace.
"You're back?" called a sweet, gentle voice. Rebecca, Joseph's wife, stood at the threshold. She wore a white silk nightgown that accentuated her auburn hair, loose around her shoulders like satin drapes.
"Yes, I'm home," Joseph replied, managing a small smile despite his fatigue.
"Have you eaten yet?" she asked, eyes soft with concern.
He shook his head. "Not yet."
"Then allow me to warm something for you," she offered, leading him into the mansion's warmly lit interior. The subtle glow of chandeliers and oil lamps lent a relaxed hush to the corridors.
Joseph followed her into the sumptuous dining hall—a far cry from the subterranean hideout. Dark mahogany furniture gleamed under candlelight. Rebecca set two places at the large table, creating an intimate, homey atmosphere.
"My father and mother finished dinner earlier," she explained as she prepared a plate for him. "I suppose they couldn't wait any longer. But it's all right—we can share a meal, just the two of us."
He smiled gratefully, settling in to pick at the meal she placed before him. The rich flavor of roasted meat, combined with the comforting presence of his wife, soothed his weariness.
"You look tired," Rebecca remarked gently. "Was it a difficult day?"
Joseph took a careful sip of red wine, relishing its mild sweetness. "Just a lot to think about. Nothing to worry over, though."
Rebecca, reading the faint shadows in his eyes, chose not to pry. She knew better than to push him for details about his secret duties. Still, her gaze conveyed unwavering support. "Take care of yourself," she said softly, covering his hand with hers.
He gazed back at her with warmth, giving her hand a light squeeze. They lingered a moment, letting the quiet bond between them speak louder than words.
Once they finished and cleared the table, Rebecca stood to collect dishes, but Joseph stopped her with a playful hug from behind, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek.
"Let me help," he insisted. "I want to."
She turned and smiled. "All right, then—dry and put the plates away, please," she teased, stepping aside so he could prove himself useful.
Laughing, Joseph complied, thoroughly drying each dish before placing it in the cupboard. It was a trivial task, yet it served to melt away the day's tension, filling the night with a rare sense of normalcy and peace.
Unseen by them, Lady Alice—Joseph's mother—peeked in from the doorway. She watched her son and daughter-in-law share an affectionate moment, the corners of her own mouth turning up in a quiet smile of satisfaction. When she caught sight of a maid approaching with a lit candle, Lady Alice quickly motioned her to step back. She wanted Joseph and Rebecca to have that moment without interruption.
With a respectful nod, the maid retreated. By the time Joseph and Rebecca finished their little domestic ritual, Lady Alice had vanished discreetly, leaving them none the wiser.
The next morning dawned crisp and bright. Joseph arose refreshed, savoring a peaceful glance at his still-sleeping wife. After a simple breakfast with his family, he departed the manor and headed out to the stables. The carriage awaited, horse already harnessed by the ever-efficient grooms.
Joseph set off, guiding the carriage himself, bound for Charles's little house as they had agreed. He drove through the capital's waking streets, mulling over the day's tasks and how best to prepare his friend for this new and dangerous world they both inhabited.