Chapter 39: His dirty blood

“…and all because you, Your Highness, are considered unworthy to rule.”

Lucian looked at him with eyes wide open, Father Marius looked like he was going to have a heart attack and Odessa’s face was a mask of ice.

But Raziel only cared about the reaction of one man.

Prince Aerion didn’t move.

He didn’t scream.

Nor did he unsheathe his sword.

He simply stood still, but the pressure in the room multiplied by ten.

Finally, his voice cut the silence.

“Get out.”

The order was so simple that no one dared to question it.

Father Marius was the first to react, doing a clumsy bow before practically running out of the room.

Lucian hesitated a second, his gaze going from Raziel to Aerion, worry etched on his face.

“But, Aerion, he…”

“Now, Lucian,” repeated the prince, without even looking at him.

Lucian clenched his jaw, but nodded and went out, closing the door behind him.

Only Odessa stayed, planted in her spot like a marble statue.

“Your Highness,” she said, her voice was cold but the tension was noticeable, “I remind you that the novice is under the Order’s protection, I will not tolerate any… abuse.”

The look Aerion shot her was freezing.

“Your duty is to protect him from external threats, Paladin. I am not one of them, so leave us.”

Odessa held his gaze for a moment that seemed eternal, but in the end, she yielded.

With a last glance at Raziel, as if she was memorizing his face in case she had to identify the corpse later, she left and closed the door.

Now yes, they were alone.

Father Marius’ office, which before was just a room full of old books, now felt like a torture cell.

Raziel swallowed saliva, he knew he had screwed up.

He had screwed up big time, because he had bet everything on a single card and now the executioner was deciding whether to cut his head off or not.

Aerion approached slowly, but he didn’t seem angry, and that was what was most scary.

“Unworthy,” repeated Aerion, tasting the word. “Who decides that? You? A scared novice babbling prophecies?”

Raziel shook his head, forcing himself to keep calm, although inside his heart was beating like a war drum.

“No, Your Highness. The nobles decide and the Church decides, and that is because your younger brother, Prince Ayres, sits on the Iron Throne.”

A dry laugh escaped Aerion’s lips.

“Ayres?” he snorted, as if Raziel had just told the stupidest joke in the world. “My brother is useless, a hedonist who couldn’t even govern a brothel, the nobles would never follow him.”

“They do,” insisted Raziel, his voice gaining strength remembering the images of his past life. “They follow him because someone else pulls his strings, they use him like a puppet, and he lets them, because the only thing he cares about is the power they give him and they get it because they destroy you first.”

Aerion’s eyes narrowed, losing all trace of amusement.

“Destroy me? My lineage is pure. The Church has blessed my right to the throne and the people support me.”

“Your lineage isn’t as pure as you think,” Raziel blurted out before he could stop himself.

’Shit.’

Aerion’s hand instinctively landed on the hilt of his sword.

“Explain yourself, novice,” he ordered, and this time his voice was pure steel.

Raziel felt the system reacting to his play, to the most dangerous lie he was about to tell.

[SYSTEM ALERT]

[Deception Skill Activated: Poisonous Truth (Level 1)]

[Effect: By revealing a devastating secret mixed with a partial truth, you can provoke a state of [Critical Insecurity] in the target.]

[Risk: Probability of Immediate Execution (85%).]

[Reward for Success: The target will become receptive to your suggestions to avoid the revealed catastrophe.]

There was no turning back now.

“In the future I lived rumors are spread, whispers in the palace corridors,” he said, lowering his voice as if telling a forbidden secret. “They say your mother had a lover, a man who was not of noble blood.”

The color disappeared from Aerion’s face.

His hand gripped the hilt with so much force that his knuckles turned white.

“They say,” continued Raziel, “that you are not the King’s true son, that you are the bastard of a servant.”

The word “bastard” hit Aerion like a punch in the stomach.

For an instant, the mask of the perfect prince broke, and Raziel saw a vulnerable man, terrified.

“Lies,” hissed Aerion, his voice choked by rage. “They are slanders that my father crushed years ago!”

“But they never disappeared entirely, right?” replied Raziel, hitting the nail on the head. “They are the reason why you always have to be twice as strong, twice as perfect, so no one doubts, but in the future, that doubt is the weapon they use to destroy you and that is how Ayres steals the throne from you.”

“Why?” he finally asked, his voice hoarse. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I need you to believe me,” answered Raziel, taking a step forward. “Because that future doesn’t have to happen since we can change it together.”

The prince studied him, his mind working at full speed.

Logic told him it was madness, but his instinct, that instinct that had kept him alive on the battlefield, screamed at him that the novice wasn’t lying entirely.

“For now,” said Aerion, his voice recovering part of its firmness, “I am going to listen to your story, but I want the complete truth, novice. No more games so tell me what really happened in the crypt. Speak to me of that power you used.”

Raziel nodded, feeling a huge weight lift off him.

It had worked.

“In the crypt… I felt a power that wasn’t mine. A golden light that protected us from the darkness and I think it is connected with the prophecy of the Paragon.”

Aerion’s eyes opened wide.

“The Paragon?” he whispered, as if he feared saying the word out loud. “But that is just a legend.”

“Is it?” challenged Raziel. “Or is it a destiny waiting to be fulfilled?”

The prince came closer, his skepticism replaced by a desperate urgency.

“I will help you understand that power and I will guide you. But you have to swear me something, on your life and on the Goddess’s soul, swear to me that the future you saw, where Phaedra burns and I fall will not come true.”

Raziel looked at the prince’s eyes and saw the same fear and the same hope he felt.

“I swear, Your Highness.”

[SECRET EVENT UNLOCKED: THE PRINCE’S GAMBLE]

[You have forged a Binding Oath with “Prince Aerion”.]

[NEW STATUS ACQUIRED: Royal Recourse (Hidden)]

[Effect: You are under the direct protection of the heir to the throne. Hostility from minor factions will decrease. Hostility from major factions will increase drastically if your connection is discovered.]

[WARNING: Breaking the oath will activate the [Hunt and Purge] protocol. There will be no escape.]

The window vanished just as Aerion put a hand on his shoulder.

The gesture wasn’t friendly, it was possessive.

“Go back to your duties. Pray, study, do whatever novices do, but keep your eyes open. When I need you, I will call you and you won’t have any other choice but to come.”

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