The days following his visit to House Gildhart passed in a quiet, almost deliberate pace. Ashen had expected to feel a rush of excitement after the first step in his plan was set into motion, but instead, a feeling of uncertainty had settled within him. His father had always told him that patience was key in the world of nobles and politics. Still, the waiting—the in-between moments where nothing seemed to happen—felt like a slow burn. He couldn't shake the feeling that his next move needed to come soon, before his enemies grew aware of his intentions.
A Quiet Morning
The sun had risen once again over the lands surrounding Flameborn Manor, its light filtering through the tall, pointed windows of Ashen's study. The morning air was cool, but the warmth of the sunlight made it comfortable enough for Ashen to sit by the window and look out at the sprawling gardens below.
Ashen had spent the last few days in intense contemplation, constantly revisiting the words his father had shared with him. Lord Orin Flameborn had been distant in the past, but his recent advice had seemed more genuine than ever. Ashen had a deep respect for his father's wisdom, even if he hadn't always agreed with his choices. Today, he would need to push past his own hesitations and make another step forward.
He couldn't afford to wait any longer.
The Matter of Resources
His father had always told him that the Flameborns were not a family that could afford to act impulsively. Resources, both material and political, were precious, and once spent, they could never be regained. That was why the first moves in this game of power had to be carefully calculated.
Ashen turned his thoughts to the next piece of his plan—the Ironcrests. The Ironcrest family was a long-standing rival of the Flameborns, and their position in the kingdom's hierarchy was nearly as strong as the Blackstones. If Ashen wanted to solidify his family's place in the world once more, he would have to approach the Ironcrests carefully, striking a delicate balance between negotiation and manipulation.
The Ironcrest estate was one of the largest in the kingdom, located on the eastern borders near the mountains. Though Ashen had never met Lord Elias Ironcrest, he had heard much about him. Lord Elias was known for his cold, calculating demeanor, and his influence was as unshakable as the mountains surrounding his estate.
To get an audience with the Ironcrests would be an accomplishment in itself. But Ashen was determined to try. He had already written a letter, worded very carefully, to request a proper meeting with Lord Elias. He needed to find out if any mutual benefit might be possible for the families-or if he had to wait on his luck till a better time came along.
A Visit to the Merchant Quarter
The early afternoon found Ashen walking through the bustling merchant quarter of the capital. Though his family had always been aristocratic, Ashen had never been one to shy away from mingling with the common folk. Merchants, unlike nobles, often had a different perspective on the workings of the kingdom. They weren't bound by the strict formalities of court life, and their gossip often provided a wealth of information that could be useful to someone in Ashen's position.
He had a particular merchant in mind: Galen Wyler, a well-known trader who dealt in exotic goods and rare materials. Though Galen was far from a noble, he had close connections to many powerful people within the kingdom, and his influence stretched further than most could imagine. Ashen had heard that Galen had been an ally of the Ironcrests in the past, but that relationship had recently soured. If there was a crack in the armor of the Ironcrest family, it would be best to exploit it.
The stall was not hard to miss. A big wooden structure located right in the center of the market, with shelves upon shelves of fabrics, strange herbs, and rare trinkets surrounding it. The merchant himself was a short, wiry man with lines of hard work on his face. He smiled at Ashen's approach, wiping his hands clean on his apron.
"To what do I owe the pleasure, Lord Ashen?" he asked, casual, yet respectful.
"I'm here for a conversation, Galen," Ashen said, his voice steady. "I've heard whispers of some interesting alliances in the merchant world. Particularly regarding House Ironcrest."
Galen's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, a flicker of something dangerous passing behind his eyes. "Ah, yes. The Ironcrests. A family with more ambition than sense, if you ask me."
Ashen leaned in slightly, his voice lowering. "I'm not asking for gossip, Galen. I'm asking for information. The more I know, the better equipped I'll be to make my decisions."
Galen chuckled softly, as if the idea of Ashen being in control was an amusing one. "Information is a valuable commodity, my lord. But I think you know that already. What exactly do you want to know?"
Ashen took a deep breath. "I want to know how much damage has been done to the Ironcrest family's reputation. And how much of it can be used."
The Game of Influence
The conversation with Galen had been far more fruitful than Ashen had anticipated. The merchant had indeed confirmed that the Ironcrests were not as untouchable as they appeared. Lord Elias had made a series of poor decisions in recent years, including alienating key allies in the merchant world and making questionable investments that had left his family vulnerable.
In many ways, the Ironcrests were like a wounded animal—dangerous, but also weakened. Ashen had no intention of striking too soon, but the opportunity for an advantageous alliance was within reach. Perhaps it was time to make his move, but it would need to be calculated and well-timed.
As he left the merchant quarter, Ashen found himself deep in thought. His father had been right: in the world of nobility, it was never about pure strength alone. It was about understanding the game, playing it with caution and subtlety. Every move had consequences. Every word, every gesture, could tilt the balance in his favor—or against him.
And as much as Ashen hated to admit it, he was starting to understand just how much careful manipulation would be required to secure his family's future.
The Family's Expectations
That evening, Ashen returned to Flameborn Manor, where his father had called a family meeting. Though the rest of the Flameborn household had been quiet, Ashen could sense the rising tension. His family was watching him closely, waiting for signs of action, expecting him to take the next step in his reclamation of the family's former glory.
Lord Orin, as always, sat at the head of the table, his eyes calculating. "Ashen," he began, his voice calm but firm, "what is your next move?"
Ashen glanced at his father, noting the quiet intensity in the air. His father was a man of few words, but the ones he did speak held the weight of years of experience.
"I've made contact with Alistair," Ashen began. "He has agreed to assist us in some small ways, though he cautions me that any future alliances must be carefully approached. But I've also reached out to the Ironcrests. I've requested a meeting with Lord Elias."
His father's eyes flickered with interest. "The Ironcrests? A dangerous game, Ashen. They have their own alliances."
Ashen nodded. "I'm aware. But I believe there are cracks in their foundation. They've made mistakes. If we play it right, we can exploit those weaknesses."
Orin leaned back in his chair, considering his son's words. "Very well. But be careful. The Ironcrests may not take kindly to your approach. And if you fail—"
"I won't fail," Ashen said, his voice firm.
The room was silent for a moment, the weight of his words hanging in the air. His family was watching, waiting for their heir to make his mark on the kingdom.
And in that moment, Ashen understood something deeply: his future was not just about strength. It was about patience, wisdom, and knowing when to strike.