Chapter 17—Cobweb

“When voices will not meet, blades inevitably will”

Raiden sat across from Ledios in the Arkantez lodge’s common room, the faint hum of magitech in the walls reminding him he wasn’t home, nor in the dorms he had grown used to. Ledios leaned back with his usual composed air, but his words were steady iron.

“Our enrollment will take at least a week, maybe three. Until then, you won’t have all of us walking Academy halls. Without special permission, I’m the only one who can accompany you,” he explained. “The Headmaster tolerates heirs of Great Houses on campus as a matter of public relations. But we can’t test that goodwill too far.”

Raiden nodded, though unease prickled at him. He had spent the better part of a month fighting whispers and ambushes—now he was being told to sit still while Houses maneuvered overhead like stormclouds. His stomach twisted at the thought of waiting, of being watched.

Ledios clapped his shoulder. “We gauge first. See the ground as it is, not as rumor paints it. We’ll split—me to the Exemplars I know. You to the students. Ears in the walls. Eyes in the courtyard. Then we compare.”

And so they went.

The day broke gray and thin, a mist curling off the riverbanks as Raiden followed Ledios out of the Arkantez lodge. His cousin walked with purpose, his cloak fastened with the Arkantez crest in silver, head high as if he carried the whole House with him. Raiden trailed half a step behind, still uneasy. The summons had left a knot in his gut; even here in the city that boasted safety within its walls, he felt eyes pressing from unseen corners.

Ledios slowed once they reached the edge of the Academy grounds. “We’ll divide here,” he said. “I’ll speak with Exemplars I know, measure where loyalties lie. You—listen. Observe. Ears are sharper than blades when the truth is buried.”

Raiden nodded, though his stomach tightened. “I’ve never been good with crowds.”

“You don’t need to speak,” Ledios answered, a faint smile tugging his mouth. “Only to see.”

They parted. Ledios cut toward the Exemplar barracks, while Raiden wandered toward the colonnades where students gathered. Benches overflowed with voices, the air alive with whispers and laughter half-forced. He kept his head low, letting the words come to him.

The Academy seemed unchanged to Raiden at first glance—the same banners snapping in the wind, the same river coursing along the base of its walls. But beneath the chatter of students was a sharper current, every laugh edged, every whisper deliberate.

Ledios walked off toward the upper training courts, while Raiden lingered where students gathered in knots: the courtyards, the library steps, the stone colonnades where apprentices traded notes. He pretended to sketch in his journal, head down, ears open.

The rumors came quickly.

“Garid Barowen hasn’t been seen in days.”
“They say he’s hiding in the city.”
“Or worse—Barowen’s headhunting Raiden. Looking to finish what started at the stables.”

The words chilled him more than the mist. Heads turned when his name surfaced, whispers following him like gnats. He pretended not to notice, but his chest burned. Not hunted beasts this time. Hunted boy. He swallowed the bile rising in his throat and kept listening. The murmurs painted the same picture: Garid absent, Barowen moving in shadows, and Raiden’s name spoken too often.

By midday, he and Ledios met again. The sun had not yet burned away the clouds, and both wore the tension of their findings. They sat beneath the eastern arcade, voices lowered against the passing crowd.

Raiden shared first. “Garid’s vanished. But Barowen hasn’t gone quiet—they’re moving. Students talk like it’s certain they’re after me. Not rumors this time. Plans.”

Ledios’ gaze sharpened but he said nothing, waiting.

“And some… they look at me as if they know more than I do. Like I’m already marked.” Raiden clenched his fist. “Feels like being stalked.”

Ledios leaned back, exhaling slow. “I spoke with Einfried. He confirmed what I feared. The Olwens are sending their heir, and Revantus too. Both to enroll.” His voice lowered further. “When rivals arrive at the same table, the table itself risks breaking.”

Raiden blinked. “And Zoven?”

“Zoven stands with all, and with none. They are allies, but they do not bleed for our quarrels. That leaves Arkantez and Barowen staring across the board, with too many pieces in play.” He glanced sideways, and Raiden followed his gaze.

Einfried stood nearby, his amber shield strapped across his back, four armored companions shadowing him. He strode over, posture straight as a spear. “Ledios. Rymboven.” His deep voice carried authority without needing to rise.

“Einfried,” Ledios returned, inclining his head. “I sought your counsel. Arkantez must stand ready.”

The taller knight studied them both. “You know the truth already. Barowen does not slumber. Their silence is a blade waiting to slip. And with Olwen and Revantus coming—old fires stir. It was not long ago those Houses bled each other dry.”

“History repeats when pride goes unchecked,” Ledios murmured. “I mean to temper it.”

Einfried’s eyes narrowed, though not in doubt. “Then tread carefully. This Academy cannot afford to be the spark. It has happened before—what begins as quarrel among students becomes war among Houses. You will not want that fire rekindled.”

The words hung heavy. For a moment, Raiden swore the mist itself carried the weight of memory—blood spilled long before his time. He shifted, discomfort crawling along his skin, but neither man looked at him. They spoke as if he were already drawn into currents far larger than his name.

When Einfried turned to leave, Ledios clasped his forearm. “Your blade steadies mine. Arkantez and Zoven cannot falter.”

The knight gave one sharp nod. “Then let us make certain neither does.”

For a heartbeat, the three stood together in silence, the wind tugging at their cloaks. Raiden felt like the smallest of them, caught between words that seemed to weigh entire Houses.

But he forced himself to speak. “Students whisper Barowen’s looking for me. Headhunting.” His throat felt dry as he said it. “It’s not rumor. Too many voices carried it.”

Einfried’s brow furrowed. “Then they’ve already marked you. Be visible. Alone, you’re prey.”

Ledios clapped Raiden’s shoulder again. “We’ll see to that. You won’t be wandering alone.”

By late afternoon, the three parted, and Raiden asked the one thing gnawing at him all day: “Can I visit Ophelin?”

Ledios gave a small nod. “Of course. I’ll go with you.”

The infirmary was quiet save for the occasional groan of patients and the soft murmur of menders. Tadari and Randall were already there, seated by Ophelin’s cot. Ophelin herself leaned against the pillows, pale but conscious, bandages covering her arm and leg. Her eyes lit faintly when Raiden entered. She looked up, and her lips twitched at the sight of Raiden. “Took you long enough,” she whispered, voice hoarse.

But her eyes flicked curiously to Ledios, and introductions followed.

“This is Ledios Arkantez,” Raiden introduced.

Ledios inclined his head. “Kin to Raiden. And ally to those who stand with him.”

Conversation flowed, stilted at first, then easier. They shared what each had learned—Raiden of Barowen’s rumors, Ledios of Einfried’s warnings, and Tadari of whispers around the stables. “House Tarin moves oddly,” Tadari said. “Messengers, guards, always together. Strange for them.”

Randall, quieter, offered something else. “There were fewer animals in the forest this morning. No rabbits on the trails, no fox prints by the streams. Even the birds were quiet—too quiet. I couldn’t shake the sense the whole wood was holding its breath.”

Raiden stiffened. The words resonated in his chest like a dull thud. He, too, had felt the world turn uneasy. A silence in the natural order that whispered of storm to come. Not weather. Something deeper. His instincts prickled, the same way storms whispered before rain. “Nature pulls back before calamity,” he said softly. Randall glanced at him, and their silence said the rest.

Ophelin tried to take it all in, but her expression collapsed, her shoulders sagging. “And me… useless. I can’t even hold a shield. What good am I when it matters?”

“You are wounded, you shouldn’t worry about fighting for now, just rest” Raiden tried to consol her.

Ophelin burst, half-screaming “And if it doesn’t heal? What if I’m like this forever?”

“You will heal” Raiden declared, firmly as if he knew it would happen, though he didn’t know what led him to believe that.

Randall added, “Nature’s telling you to rest. You’ve worked your muscles raw for years. Even storms give way to clear skies.” She stared at him, then laughed bitterly, then wept—quiet tears that shook but did not spill far.

For once, she didn’t argue. Her shoulders sagged.

Silence reigned until Ledios rose. His voice held iron. “Let us be visible, all of us. No wandering alone, no shadows. Barowen and Tarin thrive on dirty tricks, but they fear the light. Remember that.”

He turned to Raiden. “Time to go.”

Reluctantly, Raiden agreed.

Randall and Tadari lingered, debating who would guard Ophelin’s cot. She tried to protest, but her voice lacked heat. That was when the door creaked open.

Einfried entered, four armored followers behind him, his shield a golden wall on his back. He caught their words and nodded once. “I’ll take the watch.”

Tadari stiffened, skeptical. But Ophelin’s voice softened. “He’s been my mentor since I was small. If he says so, I trust him.”

That was enough. Randall and Tadari bowed their heads in thanks before taking their leave. Einfried and his companions helped Ophelin to the Exemplar dorms, placing her in a chamber beside Bertha Zoven, Einfried’s younger sister.

Bertha smiled warmly, her voice carrying the calm steadiness of someone used to caring for others. She adjusted Ophelin’s pillows with surprising gentleness for a knight’s sister. “We’ll speak later. For now, rest. Sleep comes first”

Ophelin tried to nod, but her eyes drifted shut before she could answer.