Matthew leaned back against the chair, his seating more casual now, his gaze steady on Aidan.
"You're oddly calm," he said, voice casual but laced with curiosity. "Most kids would be pacing by now—or even adults—when they were about to go where we are."
Aidan didn't answer right away. He adjusted the ring on his index finger as it adjusted to his size. He shook it slightly, seeing if it wasn't loose or anything. Then he glanced up, one brow slightly raised.
"I've just learned," he said, voice low, "that fear's easier to carry when you don't stop moving."
"And you'll be with me," Aidan said, more statement than question. His gaze drifted to his hand, eyes narrowing slightly as they lingered on the ring wrapped around his index finger. The silver caught a sliver of sunlight—quiet, steady, like the thought forming in his mind.
He looked up at Matthew, voice calm but edged with curiosity. "How many times have you gone into there?" Aidan didn't take the name, as they were in the inner castle first, as well as seated in the living hall.
There was no fear in his question, only interest. Aidan had read enough to know the forest held more than danger—it held opportunity too. If one returned at all, they returned changed.
Matthew's eyes drifted to the floor, his expression shifting—calm, but distant, as if sifting through old memories.
"Three times," he said finally, his voice low.
Aidan straightened slightly, interest appearing in his eyes.
"One of them… with your father."
Aidan's brow lifted, surprise cracking through his calm exterior. "With my father?"
Matthew nodded. "The other two were in a group. We didn't go far either time—just enough to understand why most don't return."
A brief silence fell between them, filled only by the faint rustling of the trees beyond the window.
Matthew crossed his arms, glancing at the convoy-listed document as he asked, "So," he said, voice low and steady, "how do you plan to handle this now that we've got twice the number we wanted?"
Aidan nodded as he thought for a moment before asking, "You're the head captain for this operation, right?"
Matthew gave a single nod, his face unreadable. He didn't speak further, didn't offer advice or concern—just watched.
"Well, I do have an idea," Aidan said, a subtle smile tugging at his lips.
Matthew's brow lifted. He leaned in slightly, eyes narrowing with interest.
Aidan laid out the plan in quick, quiet words.
When he finished, Matthew didn't speak right away. He sat back slowly, eyes fixed on Aidan, a frown of contemplation shadowing his face.
It wasn't complicated. In fact, it was surprisingly straightforward. But sometimes simplicity, when paired with bold timing and the right instincts, struck harder than finesse.
"Well… seems like we're leaving tomorrow, then," Matthew said, his voice quiet.
He stared ahead, but his eyes weren't really focused on anything. It was the kind of statement that carried weight—not because of what was said, but because of what lingered behind it. Uncertainty. Anticipation. Maybe even a touch of worry.
Whether he was reminding Aidan or trying to settle it within himself, even he didn't know.
While Aidan and Matthew had been talking, the Wilson estate was lively. Servants rushed through the halls, some carrying boxes, others rolling up scrolls or dragging crates stacked with supplies. The sound of boots and hurried voices filled the air, breaking the usual calm of the morning.
In the courtyard, horses were being brushed and saddled, the stable boys working faster than usual. A few guards stood near the gate, checking their gear while one of the captains went over the list Sophia had given him.
It all was happening in the outer castle. The air felt different—like something big was about to happen. Even the older servants who'd been around for decades whispered to each other about how long it had been since a Wilson heir left for another empire.
From the shadows of the upper balcony, a maid leaned against the railing, eyes following the buzz of servants below. Her voice dropped to a whisper as she said to the one beside her, "So it's true then… Young Master Aidan's leaving. For the Lizardmen's Empire, no less."
The other maid, who had just walked up with a bundle of folded linens, snorted. "He's probably just going to enjoy himself. Leave us to handle everything here while he sips fancy drinks with lizardmen and flirts with empire nobles."
"Typical," the first one murmured, rolling her eyes. "They get the adventure, we get the mess."
The two stood there a moment longer, watching the chaos below with a mix of curiosity and quiet jealousy.
Night crept in slowly and steadily, as the last preparations were done, leaving only the departure tomorrow morning.
In her room, Sophia paced back and forth, each step heavy with worry, her mind refusing to settle.
Sophia's footsteps echoed softly across the polished floor, back and forth, back and forth. Her hands wrung the edge of her shawl until her knuckles turned white. The curtains barely swayed, yet she kept glancing at the window, her eyes darting.
Sophia couldn't shake it—this crawling weight in her chest, like something unseen. She pressed a hand to her chest, breathing slow and deep, but the tightness didn't leave.
In her mind, she saw Aidan. Not the boy smiling beside her hours ago, but the image of him alone—his back turned, a shadow just behind him, silent and reaching towards his neck.
A chill snaked down her spine. She didn't know why. But an anxiety came to her.
She turned and walked straight to Liam, who looked up from his seat. "I'm going with Aidan tomorrow," she said, her voice low.
Liam sighed. "Sophia, didn't I explain it to you already?"
She sat beside him in silence, the tension between them familiar. Her eyes didn't meet his right away—just stared ahead, lost in thought. Then, like pulling a thread loose, the memory returned.
After Aidan had left earlier yesterday, Liam had calmed her down. Told her the reason he agreed to let their son go. "He needs to get rid of that weight on his shoulders and the vision he's been having," he'd said, his voice calm but heavy. "He's been pushing himself too hard in training—he needs air, not chains. A few days of real distance might do him good. And maybe also get rid of the vision."
She had listened, nodded even, but her heart hadn't settled.
Liam had noticed, of course. He always did. So, he had told her to give him the ring she wore—a ring that gave Liam assurance of her safety. "Give this to him," he had said. "With this, I can check on him whenever needed. If anything happens—I'll know."
That had eased her mind for today, but for tomorrow… she didn't know why, but she felt a new wave of worry toward the journey.
Liam looked at her, and for a moment, the usual calm in his eyes gave way to something sharper—steadfast, unwavering.
"I won't let anything happen to him, Sophia," he said, his voice low but firm, like a promise carved in stone.
She leaned into him, wrapping her arms around him tightly. "Please… just keep a watch on him, Liam."
He didn't answer, but he didn't need to. His silence carried more weight than words. He had always kept his eyes on Aidan—from the first time the boy picked up a sword to the night he stood defiant before them, asking to leave.
Liam's watch would not waver. Whether it was the halls of the Lizardman Empire or the shadows of the Dark Forest—no harm would touch his son.