CHAPTER 104

  CODE IS BLIND TO ALL

  “So, Prince Riftal,” Hans came to his side, coaxing. “Any stories to share before we reach the place?”

  Riftal, upon hearing the question, lifted his eyes toward Bernard once more. But he got nothing. He didn’t know how to answer or what to say.

  His silence unsettled Hans in a way he couldn’t quite explain. When he’d been around ten, he’d been restless—curious to the point of recklessness, stirring trouble wherever he went. But Riftal was different. Quiet. Far quieter than anyone Hans had ever known.

  As the sun hugged the horizon, the elven capital beauty enhanced its beauty further in the shadow of dusk. Getting nothing by numerous probing, Hans gave up on him and went back to Allynna, who was eager to chat at a moment’s notice. He matched her steps in rhythm.

  “Your brother hasn’t said a word! I don’t think he’s spoken since the duel. Is he that shy?”

  “Not shy,” Allynna replied. “More of a disciplined one—trained that way.”

  “Trained?” Hans frowned. “Trained not to speak?”

  She gave a slow nod, her gaze drifting back to Riftal, walking just behind them. “Not unless given permission,” she said. “He was raised in silence—to listen. Always listening. Never a distraction, never distracting others.”

  She paused as a gentle breeze rustled the side trees. Hans’s eyes also led towards Riftal, looking at the blowing leaves—distracted. A contrast to what he was told just now.

  “That’s harsh,” Hans commented. “He is just a kid.”

  “And a gifted one.” Allynna’s voice grew quieter. “More gifted than me, they say.” She added.

  “You’ve never met the Parvian Prince, do you? He is a talent—I mean a real one. Riftal, I dare say, he can hold his own against him in talent. But while their prince is celebrated, my brother is shunned for the very same gifts.”

  “Parvian Prince. Haan!” Hans scratched his neck. “You mention him quite a bit. Sounds like someone I should be worried about.”

  “You should,” she said, her tone suddenly serious.

  “Why?” He asked, caught off guard by her concern.

  “Because he’s powerful,” she said simply, stressing. “And he believes in that power— acts with conviction—and he has the strength to match it. That kind is dangerous.”

  Hans chuckled, meaning to tease. “You almost sound like you admire him.”

  “I do,” she said softly.

  That gave Hans an awkward silence.

  “On the other hand, he despises me,” she went on, “but that doesn’t change the truth. He is admirable. He makes me envious. If I had even a measure of his courage... things might be different. My poor brother wouldn’t be living like this.”

  Courage? Hans questioned in silence. No, I’m just ratshit crazy. But I didn’t know people thought of me like that. I always figured they were cursing me behind my back. Even Reina... she never badmouthed me. And now you—

  He shook his head, half in disbelief. Elves are complicated. He thought as Allynna offered a faint smile, though it faded quickly.

  “But why though?” Hans asked, his brow furrowing. “Why is he being shunned? Just because he’s more talented than you? That’s—well, that’s insane.”

  “Because Riftal is destined to become the next head of the Crows,” she said. “Every royal born without a light aura inherits the Shadow Line. It’s always been that way.”

  Hans blinked. “Then what happens to the current Shadow family?”

  “They step down. Vacate the castle—relinquish their duty to the Crown when the next royal sibling comes of age. This has been the custom for generations.”

  “They just... give up power?” Hans asked. “The Shadow family—they’re second only to the royal line of Clandor, aren’t they?”

  “Yes,” Allynna replied. “But it comes at a cost. The Shadow family serves the Crown. Whether by will or duty, their lives are bound to ours.”

  “But the current one doesn’t serve Teacher? They act like —independent,” Hans said, puzzled.

  “That’s because my grandmother—former Queen—loved my uncle Martys far too much. Her one condition for supporting my mother’s ascension over Aunt Hera was that my mother leave Uncle Martys alone.”

  Hans let out a slow breath. “That’s... a lot of complicated math.”

  Those words made Allynna glance at him a moment longer. She had heard them before—from someone they’d just spoken of.

  Catching her stare, Hans swore inwardly. Me and my oh-so-great mouth. He quickly steered the conversation elsewhere.

  “Seems every family’s got its share of problems. Elves, humans—no different in that.”

  Fortunately for him, their stroll had brought them to the famed restaurant at the edge of the plaza. Hans took one look at the long line and sighed. “You sure picked a popular place.”

  “Should we wait?” Allynna turned to the group.

  “Well, it’s not like your mother hands out permission slips every other day,” Hans said with a crooked grin.

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Allynna nodded. The very fact that she’d been allowed to wander freely through the capital was rare—likely thanks to Theodred’s influence, she guessed.

  So they agreed to wait. And wait they did—until a pack of goons bulldozed their way ahead of the queue.

  Hans, if he were himself, would have blown these clowns away without a second thought, but this was different.

  He glanced at Bernard. “You’re really not going to do anything? They cut the line.”

  Bernard raised a brow, arms folded. “You want to send a warlord over queue etiquette? Let nature take its course. Someone in white and shining armour will appear and correct them when needed.

  But none came.

  Only their turn, and they were greeted by a colourful spread of stuffed breads. The presentation, however, left Hans visibly unimpressed.

  “This is it?” he muttered.

  “Don’t judge a book by its cover,” Allynna said, offering him a piece.

  “Usually, what you see is what you get, Princess—”

  She stuffed his flapping mouth shut, and after a while when the bread did its magic, he spoke.

  “I was wrong. This is something…” He managed, muffled, as sugary filling spilled from the corners of his lips like syrup from a cracked jar.

  “Told you,” Allynna said, smirking. She handed another to Riftal, who took it quietly and began eating in small, precise bites—like a fish pecking at the water’s surface.

  Hans tilted his head, watching. “I’m pretty sure you come out often, Princess—”

  “I told you—I don’t,” she said firmly, not wanting the subject dragged out.

  As they strolled into the open plaza, still nibbling at their snacks, a sudden boom split the air.

  A shockwave rippled across the square as a nearby shop collapsed in a spray of splinters and stone.

  Hans froze. Damn it. Every bloody time. Bloody. Time.

  He cursed under his breath. “Now what? Please—please don’t let it be Dijkstra,” he murmured, half praying.

  For once, the gods obliged.

  It wasn’t Dijkstra.

  But what emerged from the settling dust was no less troubling—a mage, robed in the dark insignia of the Crow sigil.

  Hans narrowed his eyes. “Shadow family,” he hissed, an opportunity to make contact with them arrived literally at his footsteps.

  He moved swiftly, aiding others amidst the chaos. When a collapsing shed threatened to crush a cluster of civilians, he sprang into action. Sitting upright, he summoned his aura-forged sword and, with a gleaming arc, cleaved the structure to splinters.

  “What is the meaning of this? Blowing up a shop in broad daylight?” Hans demanded as Bernard and the royal siblings approached.

  Allynna reached out, trying to restrain Theodred. She knew the man before them well—and knew better than to confront him. But Hans held no such caution.

  “I asked,” he levelled the light aura blade at the mage. It shone, brighter and even more fierce. It marked his standing and as famous his name was, so did his light-burning sword.

  Someone in the crowd recognised —Theodred. And others started buzzing.

  The name spread like wildfire, and when it reached the man in question, he finally took notice.

  “Just doing my job,” he replied casually. From the rubble, he hauled a figure—bloodied, coughing, human.

  “This one snuck into our lands. He’s a Parvian.”

  The word struck like a blade through the crowd. Fear twisted their expressions, as if a monster had just been unmasked. But for Hans, the name did something else—it clenched around his heart like a vice.

  However, the man’s struggling words loosened that vice’s grip.

  “I’m not a Parvian. I’m from Grimgar—I was captured—”

  “Silence.” The mage shouted as he let the man fall into the rubble again.

  “No,” the man gasped, stumbling to his feet. “You elves abduct us! For experiments—!”

  The sentence was cut short just like the poor man’s life.

  The mage smirked, looking at Theodred.

  Yet in the next second, his jaw met Hans’s fearful punch. “ Bastards like you are why Clandor rots,” Hans snarled. “You bury truth instead of facing it. You cover crimes instead of punishing them. You’re a waste of breath on this world.”

  The mage reeled, his jaw reshaping as his magic knit bone and sinew. “How dare—“

  Another punch silenced him—this one harder, fiercer. Hans didn’t let it fly this time. Grabbing his collar with another, he volleyed punches after another. Leaving him in a state that his own mother might not recognise him.

  What stirred him, he didn’t know. The fact that the victim was human or the name Parv was used. But he kept punching and punching and punching.

  It was so Hans-like, a different way of how Theodred did things. But he didn’t care; maybe he was holding himself back for quite a bit. He didn’t know.

  “Stop, this madness.” Came Bernard’s hand grabbing his. “It isn’t your job to punish them…it’s your queen’s,” he said.

  “Now we never know what transpired here.” Hans mumbled, “my mood is ruined. Let’s just leave.”

  Bernard sighed, “you can’t just leave after creating this mess—”

  “And who is going to stop me?” Theodred’s gaze turned menacing. A gaze that had been trained to look down, an authoritative stance that should’ve not been familiar with Theodred, a warning from someone above others.

  Soon the security mages dived in, controlling the situation. One of them came towards them. “Can you tell me what happened here? Who plummeted, the Shadow family mage?”

  “Shouldn’t you be asking? What happened to the man over there?” Theodred pointed.

  The mage offered a tired shrug. “It’s not uncommon. Occasionally, humans sneak in—gods knows why—and the Shadow Family, in their role as protectors, deal with them.”

  Theodred turned toward Bernard, eyes narrowed. “You’re really going to let this go? You’re human too, Ser Bernard.”

  Bernard’s shoulders tensed. “It’s complicated, kid. This isn’t your fight. You’re a knight—your job is to follow orders, not question them. We came here to find you a blacksmith. Instead, you went from picking out snacks to pummelling a mage on duty.”

  “A mage on duty? Do you hear yourself?”

  “You aren’t the one hearing yourself, kid. Look around you.” Bernard swept a hand toward the onlookers. Their eyes held nothing but contempt.

  “To them,” he continued, “you just beat a mage doing his duty—trying to stop humans from infiltrating their lands. You’re the one in the wrong, not the man you punished. That’s the way the world works. It doesn’t care about truth. It only cares about who looks right.”

  Hans met their gazes—cold, judgmental. Loathing.

  Bernard went on, voice heavy. “This world doesn’t favour honourable fools. You survive by bending. You adapt.”

  Hans’s voice came quiet, but sharp as steel. “Is that what you did when you defected here? Bent your knee to circumstance? I can’t. If people believe in a lie, it’s our duty—the ones who know the truth—to correct it.”

  “Mock me however you wish,” Bernard said, unmoved. “But truth isn’t always the right thing. Sometimes, a lie is mercy. A tall tree is the first to be cut. One day, you’ll understand. If silencing one voice prevents war, sign me up any day.”

  Hans knew it very well, that’s why he just couldn’t hate Bernard as he should’ve. He understood the weight of circumstances—the way they not only forced a man to kneel, but to lower his head.

  But he was Theodred. And Theodred was a character of the Code—the old knight code.

  Stand for the truth. Even if it harms you. Even if it helps your enemy.

  Bernard turned to the security mage. “I don’t believe the Shadow Family’s mage is trying to escalate this. But if something does come up, contact the royal palace directly.”

  Then, without another word, he ushered the three of them toward the carriage and they vanished.