Chapter 55: The Grand Duke Receives Records (2)
Spiro’s fingers tightened around the book. "Is it connected to the children?"
For a moment, the study became quiet.
The boy looked small standing before the desk, but there was nothing small about his eyes. They were too sharp, too aware, and too burdened for a child who should have been complaining about bitter medicine or stealing sweets from the pantry.
I disliked it.
I disliked the people who made him this way even more. Once the Crown Prince’s issue is done and we’re back to Sonomi, their reckoning will start.
"It may be," I answered.
William shifted slightly, probably because he expected me to dismiss the child entirely.
I did not.
Spiro had already been dragged into this matter by fate, blood, and whatever past he still hid in his chest. Treating him like a fool would only teach him to hide more.
I had no interest in raising a liar who lied to me.
Lying to others was acceptable.
Lying to me was not.
"How?" Spiro asked.
"An escaped carrier from the chapel fled toward the old aqueduct district after our people intercepted temple personnel removing sealed items."
His face paled slightly, not because of confusion. It didn’t look like it.
It was recognition.
Ah. So he knew something.
I leaned back and watched him carefully.
"Spiro."
He flinched albeit, barely enough to notice. But I noticed everything.
"What do you know about the old aqueduct district?"
His mouth opened and closed.
His eyes darted toward Abi, then William, then back to me.
It seemed the child was deciding whether to lie.
How heartbreaking. And how foolish.
"If you lie," I said gently, "I will know."
He froze.
Abi murmured, "That sounded terrifying."
"It was meant to."
Spiro swallowed. "I do not know much."
"That is not an answer."
"I..." His little fingers curled into the edge of the book. "Before the orphanage gave me away, there were older children who disappeared sometimes. The dean said they were sponsored. Some came back. Some did not."
William’s eyes lowered.
Bernard stopped writing.
I remained still.
Spiro continued, voice quieter. "One boy came back once. He was sick. Very sick. He said the place smelled like wet stone and old water. He said there were tunnels. He said there were people singing under the ground."
Abi’s expression changed.
I felt something cold settle behind my ribs.
"Singing," I repeated.
Spiro nodded. "Not like church songs. He said it sounded like people calling from far away."
Calling.
Do not answer when called.
The old warning surfaced in my mind with unpleasant clarity.
I smiled coldly. The room temperature did not change, but Bernard shivered anyway.
"I see."
Spiro looked at me anxiously. "Did I say something wrong?"
"No."
"But Father looks angry."
"I am not angry."
Abi snorted. I automatically ignored that unnecessary contribution.
"I am offended," I corrected.
Spiro blinked. "Offended?"
"Yes. Anger is too common. Offense is more refined."
He looked as if he did not understand but wanted to. I let him be. He should keep some innocence in him for at least one more breakfast or maybe a few more.
I reached out and closed the map book gently.
"You did well in telling me this."
His shoulders lowered slightly.
"Will you go there?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Can I come?"
"No."
The answer came too quickly. His face fell before he could stop it.
I sighed, "Spiro, old tunnels where suspicious temple personnel flee with sealed items are not suitable places for children."
"But if it is connected to the others..."
"That is precisely why you cannot come."
He looked stubborn for half a second.
"You asked me last night whether you could protect those who become your people," I said. "Do you remember what I told you?"
"That I need to know the direction."
"Correct. And do you know it now?"
His brows knitted. "Not yet."
"Then your task is not to run ahead into darkness because you are worried. Your task is to learn, recover, gather strength, and understand what kind of leader you want to become. Running into tunnels without thought or preparation is not courage. It is stupidity wearing a cheap cloak."
Abi nodded solemnly. "Hmm. Cheap cloaks are indeed offensive."
I glanced at him. "Do not ruin my lesson."
"My apologies. Continue."
Spiro lowered his head. "Then what can I do?"
"Write down everything you remember about the orphanage. Names, faces, phrases, rooms, habits, smells, anything. Do not force yourself to remember all at once. If it hurts, stop. Give the notes to William."
He nodded slowly.
"That is also protection," I said. "Information saves lives before swords are drawn."
His eyes lifted.
This time, there was something steadier in them.
"Yes, Father."
"Good. Now go back to your lesson."
He hesitated, then looked toward the stacks of documents. "Father."
"Yes?"
"Please come back safely."
The words landed softly.
It was absurd, really. I was a swordmaster. I would be accompanied by trained shadows, and possibly Abi if I failed to restrain him from inviting himself. The old aqueduct district might contain enemies, traps, wards, or hidden cult filth, but none of that warranted the frightened look in a child’s eyes.
Still.
"I will," I said.
"Promise?"
I stared at him.
A promise was not a casual thing in this world. Especially for a Konstantin. Certainly not for someone who knew the weight of words, vows, covenants, and all the troublesome ways reality loved to enforce meaning.
But this was not a vow of mana, or a blood covenant, or a soul brand.
It was merely a promise to a child. Somehow, that made it heavier.
"I promise."
Spiro smiled. It was small, but it was enough. He bowed politely and left the study with the map book held against his chest.
The door closed behind him.
I looked at Abi. "Do not say it."
"I wasn’t going to say anything."
"Your face is already saying too much."
"I only think that your son is precious."
"He is."
Abi blinked.
William’s hand paused over the papers. Bernard pretended not to hear with the desperate sincerity of a man valuing his employment.
I looked at them.
"What? That is factual."
Abi’s grin widened slowly.
Ah. I had made a mistake.
"Brother."
"No."
"You admitted it so easily."
"I admitted nothing scandalous."
"You called him precious."
"He is eight, underfed, traumatized, and currently more sensible than most nobles in the Capital. Precious is a practical assessment."
"Of course."
"Do not use that tone on me. It’s getting on my nerves."
"What tone?" He asked innocently.
"That one."
Abi laughed. I decidedly threw a folded paper at him. Naturally, he dodged.
Coward.
William cleared his throat. "Your Excellency, shall we prepare to move toward the old aqueduct district?"
"Yes. But not openly."
He nodded. "A small group, then?"
"Two shadows in advance. Two behind. Bernard will remain here and continue cross-referencing. You will stay with Spiro."
William’s brows moved faintly. "Your Excellency, perhaps I should accompany you."
"No."
"Master Skandar."
There it was, the dangerous tone.
Unfortunately for William, I had already decided.
"Spiro trusts you," I said. "If this matter touches the children, and if someone moves while I am gone, he will need someone steady beside him. Leaving him with Abi again is going to fray my nerves. You are a better choice."
His expression stilled.
I smiled faintly. "Do not look so displeased. Protecting my son is not a demotion."
William lowered his head. "Never, sire."
"Good that you know."
Abi raised his hand. "I shall accompany you, then."
"No, you won’t."
His hand dropped.
"What?"
"I said no."
"Why?"
"Because you are too noticeable."
"I can be subtle."
"You once called three tailors blind within ten minutes of entering a boutique."
"That was merely social commentary."
"You asked whether human fashion had regressed through generational failure."
"It is true that it had."
"You are not coming."
Abi stared at me with great betrayal. "You wound me."
"You will heal."
"I am powerful. You need me."
"I need you here."
The room quieted.
Abi’s expression shifted, only slightly.
I continued, "Like I have said last night, the estate is not merely a residence anymore. We have Spiro, rescued children, Caldus, records, and several enemies who may be desperate enough to make poor decisions. If the chapel realizes one of their carriers escaped toward a watched location, they may attempt a distraction."
"And you think the estate will be targeted."
"I think I would target it if I were them."
Abi looked at me for a long moment.
Then he smiled, not teasing this time.
"Fine."
How rare. He was cooperative without being dramatic.
Suspicious, but welcome.
"I will stay," he said. "No one will touch what is yours."
I stared at him. For once, the words did not sound like a joke.
"You make it sound possessive."
"It is."
"Don’t."
He grinned then, recovering some of his usual shamelessness. "Would you prefer righteous?"
I picked up the paperweight. He vanished before it left my hand.
Wise. Very wise of him. I would have thrown it for real this time.
I stood and adjusted my cuffs. The documents on the desk remained scattered, but the lines between them had become clearer.
The Crown Prince’s mark.
The repeated rites.
Caldus. Marcellus.
The symbol. The chapel.
The aqueduct district.
Children who heard singing beneath stone. A slow, pleasant chill curled through my thoughts.
This was no longer a simple matter of curing a prince or dismantling a suspicious charity. Something old had its fingers in the empire’s throat, squeezing gently enough that the fools in silk mistook choking for breathing.
If someone intended to use children, manipulate heirs, and hide ancient filth beneath temple incense, then they should at least have the decency to be competent enough not to leave threads dangling before me.
I disliked sloppy villains.
They lowered the standards for the rest of us.
"Prepare the carriage," I said.
William bowed. "At once, Your Excellency."
The old aqueduct district, was it?
Very well. Let us see who was singing under the Capital.
