Chapter 42: Whispers in the Dark
The Everhart estate stood silent beneath the pale moonlight. The mist that clung to the ground twisted like restless spirits, shrouding the vast mansion in an eerie stillness. Not a single sound echoed through the grand halls—except for the quiet steps of Leonhardt Valerian Everhart.
Dressed in dark training attire, his ashen-black hair glimmered faintly under the moon's glow, the deep-red strands catching the silver light like embers in the night. His fiery red eyes gleamed with an unreadable intensity as he walked toward his private training grounds.
Something was coming.
He could feel it.
The imperial palace, the assassination attempt, the lingering presence of an unknown observer—none of it was a coincidence. Someone was moving in the shadows.
And Leonhardt intended to find out who.
A Meeting with the Grand Duke
"Leonhardt."
The deep, authoritative voice of Aldric Valerian Everhart, the Grand Duke, pulled Leonhardt from his thoughts.
His father stood by the open balcony of the family's grand hall, dressed in a dark, embroidered robe. The crimson insignia of House Everhart—a sword engulfed in flames—was stitched onto the fabric, a stark reminder of their power.
Leonhardt approached without hesitation.
Aldric turned, his crimson gaze locking onto his son's. His presence alone was enough to silence a room, and his expression was unreadable.
"We will leave for the Imperial Palace in three days."
Leonhardt did not react. He had expected this.
"The emperor has summoned us," Aldric continued. "The nobles will be watching you closely."
Leonhardt's eyes gleamed with cold amusement. "Let them."
Aldric smirked. "Good. Because they will be looking for weakness."
A moment of silence stretched between them before Aldric added, "Your mother and I will deal with the political matters. However—" He narrowed his eyes. "You must be prepared for anything."
Leonhardt understood the unspoken warning.
The Imperial Palace was a nest of vipers.
Assassins, spies, scheming nobles—none of them frightened him.
But they would try to test him.
And he would make them regret it.
Secrets Beneath the Moon
That night, Leonhardt stood alone in the vast courtyard of the Everhart estate, surrounded by ancient stone walls and tall blackened trees.
The moon hung high above him, casting an ethereal glow over the training grounds.
Then, he felt it.
A presence.
He had sensed it before—the same one that had watched him since the assassination attempt.
Leonhardt did not turn immediately. Instead, he drew his training sword and closed his eyes.
He listened.
The rustling of the wind. The faint crackle of torches in the distance. The slow, deliberate breaths of someone nearby.
Then—
A flicker of movement.
Leonhardt struck without warning.
His sword slashed through the air, aimed at the unseen presence. But before it could land—
Clang!
A dagger met his blade, stopping it mid-swing.
Leonhardt's eyes snapped open.
Before him stood a figure clad in black, their face hidden beneath a mask. Their stance was composed, their aura completely controlled—too controlled.
Not an assassin.
A spy.
Leonhardt smirked. "You finally showed yourself."
The figure did not respond.
They lunged.
Leonhardt met their attack with ease, their blades clashing under the moonlight. Sparks flew with every strike, their movements too fast for the average eye to follow.
But Leonhardt was not an average ten-year-old.
With a precise twist of his wrist, he disarmed the spy, sending their dagger flying into the air.
Before the weapon could hit the ground, Leonhardt's hand was already at their throat.
"Who sent you?" His voice was calm, but his grip tightened slightly.
The spy remained silent.
Leonhardt's gaze darkened. "Speak."
Still, no answer.
Then—
A sudden burst of mana erupted from the spy, forcing Leonhardt to release his grip as they pushed away, disappearing into the mist.
Leonhardt did not chase.
Instead, he stood there, watching the darkness where they had vanished.
Whoever they were, they were skilled. Far beyond a common assassin.
His father was right.
The real players in this game had yet to reveal themselves.
But they would.
And when they did—
Leonhardt would be ready.
The Imperial Palace Beckons
Three days later, the Everhart carriage rolled through the grand gates of the Imperial Capital, its black and crimson banners waving under the morning sun.
Nobles turned their heads as the Grand Duke's heir arrived, whispers already spreading like wildfire.
Inside the carriage, Leonhardt sat across from his mother, Selene Everhart, the world's only 9th-class magician.
She was dressed in elegant midnight-blue robes, her silver hair cascading like liquid moonlight. She was beautiful, powerful, and utterly unreadable.
Selene's violet eyes studied her son carefully. "You should be careful, Leonhardt. The emperor is unpredictable."
Leonhardt tilted his head. "So am I."
Selene chuckled softly. "That, you are."
The carriage slowed as they neared the Imperial Palace—a vast structure of white marble and golden domes, standing as the heart of the empire's power.
As they stepped out, the palace guards bowed in respect.
And standing at the entrance, waiting for them, was Emperor Alistair Ravenhart himself.
A sharp, knowing smile curved on his lips as his piercing golden eyes locked onto Leonhardt.