(Leon's POV)

  Leon entered the dimly lit chamber, the scent of parchment and burning candle wax thick in the air. He bowed slightly, the faint rustle of his coat breaking the silence. “Your Highness.”

  The prince, seated behind his grand mahogany desk, didn’t glance up. The soft scratch of his quill against parchment continued, steady and deliberate. He had expected Leon’s arrival the moment the historian’s boots crossed the threshold.

  “Report.” His voice, cool and commanding, cut through the stillness like a blade.

  Leon took a measured step forward. “As per your orders, I’ve observed every historian—their actions, their interactions—but nothing suspicious has surfaced among those present during the war.” He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “It’s possible we’re being misled about the true perpetrator.”

  The prince finally set his quill down, fingers steepling as his gaze lifted, sharp as a hawk’s. “And what do you think of Tuk?”

  A beat of silence. Leon’s throat felt dry. “Historian Tuk has been actively translating the scrolls and reporting his observations to me, as instructed, but...”

  The prince leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking softly. His piercing eyes gleamed with something between amusement and calculation. “If you’re suspicious of Tuk, why inform him about a spy within the historians? ” His voice was light, almost playful, but the undertone was razor-sharp. “If he’s truly behind Pierce, wouldn’t it be easier for him to manipulate how we perceive his actions? ”

  Leon’s shoulders tensed. He had no response. His silence stretched, thickening the air between them.

  The prince exhaled a slow, measured breath, his lips curling into a smirk. “Trust, Leon,” he mused, his fingers tapping idly against the armrest, “is a blade I lend freely—not to shield, but to strike when they least expect it.”

  Leon’s jaw tightened. There it was—that unpredictable, ruthless side of the prince, the one that made it impossible to tell whether he was toying with his prey or setting them free.

  “By the way,” the prince mused, flipping through a document, “do the people of Ellis have a habit of cross-dressing?”

  Leon blinked, caught off guard. “I... I’m not sure what you mean, Your Highness.”

  The prince’s gaze sharpened, a mischievous glint in his eye. “You weren’t exactly caught when you disguised yourself as one of the late concubine’s maids, were you?”

  Leon’s lips pressed into a thin line, the memory still fresh in his mind. Forcing a smile, he replied darkly, “Did I do something wrong, Your Highness?” It was a polite yet firm request for the prince to drop the subject.

  The prince studied him for a moment before lazily shifting the conversation again. “Aren’t you going to visit the princess’s tomb? Why are you still here?”

  Leon exhaled softly, his faint smile returning, this time genuine. “Yes, I will, Your Highness. I’ll leave before noon tomorrow. I wanted to finish a few tasks before returning to Elthor. Thank you for your concern.”

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  The prince glanced at him. “Hmm… Why not take the Royal Scholar with you?”

  Leon tilted his head. “The Royal Scholar?” he echoed, his voice barely disturbing the hush of the grand chamber.

  “I’ve decided to change Tuk’s title as an advisor,” the prince said, resting his chin lazily on his hand. His rings, adorned with emeralds and rubies, caught the light, reflecting glimmers of green and red onto the dark wooden desk before him. “Didn’t she say she’s from Ellis? This might be a good chance for her to return to her homeland.”

  Realization dawned on Leon, and he nodded. “Oh… Well, if you allow it, Your Highness, I’ll take him along with me. I’ll inform him right away. I’m sure he’ll be happy to visit.”

  A flicker of amusement crossed the prince’s face, subtle yet unmistakable. “Will she?”

  A breeze whispered through the balcony, carrying with it the dry scent of sand and sun-baked stone. Leon frowned at the prince’s choice of words but chose not to comment. Yet his thoughts lingered.

  From what had been gathered, there were no records of an orphan named Tuk in Ellis. Leon, once a leader of the kingdom, had no recollection of his existence. Was he an undocumented outsider who slipped into Ellis illegally? Yet, the prince clearly thought differently.

  The prince leaned back in his chair, the silk cushions sighing beneath his weight. His tone turned reflective. “It might be fun to visit Elthor again after all these years, but I have more important matters to handle. When you’re there, visit the twins for me. I want a report on their progress. By now, at least one or two should be capable of handling a position.”

  Leon’s chest tightened. The air in the chamber was thick, not just with the lingering scent of incense, but with something heavier—expectation, the unspoken weight of the prince’s ambitions. He admired the man’s leadership, but the thought of his ultimate goal left a bitter taste in his mouth. Still, it wasn’t his place to interfere.

  “I’ll check on them thoroughly, Your Highness,” Leon promised solemnly.

  “Good. You may go.” The prince waved a dismissive hand, the loose sleeve of his robe shifting like dark silk.

  Leon turned to leave, his boots tapping softly against the polished floor. But before he reached the grand doors, the prince’s voice halted him.

  “Oh, and Leon.” There was amusement laced in his words, smooth as honey yet sharp as a dagger. “When Tuk gives you a tour of her homeland, make sure I hear about it. I’m very interested in the place she grew up.”

  A small object arced through the air toward Leon. He caught it effortlessly, the cool metal pressing into his palm—a token, a silent command. One glance at it, and he immediately knew what to do.

  Leon bowed once more. “As you wish, Your Highness.”

  An unsettling thought gnawed at him as he walked out of the office. '

  What has Tuk done this time to make His Highness so curious?'