he Grimoire Tower rose like a shadowy needle against the evening sky, its obsidian walls carved with protective runes that seemed to shift and writhe in the flickering torchlight. Yarihc approached the ancient structure through the palace's eastern gardens, where flowering jasmine and night-blooming cereus released their perfume into the cool air.
The tower had stood for three centuries, built during the reign of Emperor Kaleth the Wise to house the Empire's magical knowledge. Its architecture was deliberately imposing—smooth black stone that reflected no light, narrow windows that revealed nothing of the secrets within, and a single entrance guarded by wards that would burn any unauthorized intruder to ash.
But Yarihc was not unauthorized. As a prince of the blood, he had access to most areas of the palace complex, including the tower's lower levels where novice mages studied and practiced their craft. The upper floors, where the true grimoires were kept, remained beyond his reach—but he had no need to venture there tonight.
He passed through the tower's entrance hall, where ancient murals depicted the Empire's first mages binding their grimoires in ceremonies of blood and starlight. The air inside was thick with the scent of parchment and ink, mixed with something else—an underlying metallic tang that spoke of magic worked in these halls.
The novice quarters occupied the tower's second floor, a collection of small chambers where young mages lived and studied under the guidance of their elders. Yarihc had visited here twice before, ostensibly to observe the Empire's magical traditions but actually to identify potential assets among the student body.
He had found what he was looking for in Matthias Corven, a baker's son from the merchant quarter who had shown magical talent at age fifteen. The boy was nineteen now, still trapped in the Whisper rank after four years of study—a sign that his natural abilities were limited. But limited ability did not mean limited usefulness.
Yarihc found Matthias in his small chamber, hunched over a worn grimoire whose pages flickered with faint light. The young mage was thin and pale, with the sunken eyes of someone who spent too much time reading by candlelight. His brown hair hung lank around his shoulders, and his robes—the simple gray of a Whisper-rank student—were stained with ink and candle wax.
"Your Highness," Matthias said, scrambling to his feet as Yarihc entered. "I... I wasn't expecting you."
"Peace, Matthias. I come as a friend, not a prince." Yarihc smiled warmly, the expression carefully calculated to put the nervous young man at ease. "I hope I'm not interrupting important studies?"
"No, Your Highness. Just... practice exercises. Nothing important." Matthias gestured helplessly at his grimoire, which had gone dark the moment he stopped concentrating on it.
"May I?" Yarihc indicated a chair beside the small wooden table that served as the mage's desk. When Matthias nodded, he sat down with casual grace. "I've been following the tournament with great interest. Have you been watching the matches?"
"Some of them, Your Highness. When my studies permit." Matthias remained standing, clearly uncomfortable with the royal presence in his humble quarters.
"Please, sit. I find formal protocol tiresome when we're speaking privately." Yarihc waited until the young mage had settled into his chair before continuing. "I was sorry to see Prince Darius eliminated so early. He trained hard for the tournament."
"Yes, Your Highness. The palace has been... unsettled since then."
"Indeed. And I fear there may be more unsettling news to come." Yarihc allowed his expression to grow serious. "Tell me, Matthias—in your time here in the tower, have you heard rumors about magical involvement in political matters?"
The young mage's eyes widened. "Your Highness, I... we're not supposed to discuss such things. The Archmages forbid political involvement."
"Of course. But surely you hear things? Whispers in the corridors, conversations that cease when you approach?" Yarihc leaned forward slightly. "I ask not from idle curiosity, but from genuine concern for the Empire's stability."
Matthias glanced nervously at his door, as if expecting someone to burst through at any moment. "There have been... rumors, Your Highness. Nothing concrete."
"What kind of rumors?"
"Some of the senior students speak of mages who have left the tower to serve noble houses privately. Mages who work in secret, providing... services that the official orders would not approve."
This was exactly what Yarihc had hoped to hear. "What sort of services?"
"Divination, mostly. Scrying the future, reading omens, that sort of thing. But also..." Matthias lowered his voice to barely above a whisper. "Curses. Subtle magic that might harm enemies or competitors."
"I see. And do you know of any such mages currently serving noble houses?"
"I... Your Highness, I shouldn't..."
Yarihc reached across the table and placed a gentle hand on the young man's arm. "Matthias, I'm not asking you to betray any confidences. But if such activities are taking place, the Emperor should know about them. The Empire's stability depends on all of us doing our duty."
The young mage looked torn between fear and the desire to please a member of the royal family. "There are rumors about Lady Seraphina's household," he said finally. "Some say she employs a Shade-rank mage for... private consultations."
Lady Seraphina was the wife of Lord Aldric of House Storm, a woman known for her ambition and her bitter rivalry with several other noble ladies. The information was useful, but not what Yarihc was primarily after.
"Thank you for trusting me with this information," he said sincerely. "Now, I have a question of a more personal nature. You mentioned that you've been in the tower for four years, yet you remain at the Whisper rank. That must be... frustrating."
Color flooded Matthias's pale cheeks. "I... my abilities are limited, Your Highness. Some are simply not meant for the higher mysteries."
"Perhaps. Or perhaps you simply haven't found the right motivation." Yarihc's tone became more intimate. "Tell me, is there anything in your life that you desire? Something that might inspire you to greater efforts?"
The young mage's flush deepened. "Your Highness, I... there is someone..."
"Ah." Yarihc's smile was understanding. "A lady who has captured your heart?"
"She's... she's one of the Emperor's concubines, Your Highness. I know it's foolish, but..." Matthias's voice trailed off in misery.
"What is her name?"
"Lyanna. She's from the merchant quarter, like myself. We knew each other before... before she was chosen for the imperial harem."
Yarihc nodded thoughtfully. The concubine system was complex, with dozens of young women competing for the Emperor's attention and favor. Most would never rise above their current station, but they lived in comfort and security within the palace walls.
"And you still have feelings for her?"
"I know it's hopeless, Your Highness. She belongs to the Emperor now. But I can't seem to forget..."
"Perhaps it's not as hopeless as you think." Yarihc's voice was carefully neutral. "The imperial harem is large, and not all concubines attract the Emperor's attention equally. Some are forgotten, left to live quiet lives within the palace walls."
Matthias looked up sharply. "Your Highness, are you suggesting...?"
"I'm suggesting that a man of magical talent might find ways to... ensure the safety and comfort of someone he cares about. Small magics, protective wards, ways to keep her healthy and happy."
The young mage's breathing had quickened. "But the rules, Your Highness. The Archmages would..."
"The Archmages need not know everything that transpires in the palace. And certain members of the royal family might be inclined to... overlook minor infractions, if they were performed for noble reasons."
Yarihc could see the internal struggle playing out on Matthias's face. The young man was torn between his magical training, which forbade political involvement, and his desire to help someone he loved.
"What would you need from me, Your Highness?"
"Nothing inappropriate. Simply... information. You move through the palace in ways that others do not. You see things, hear things. If you were to share those observations with me, I might be able to ensure that Lyanna receives certain... considerations."
"What kind of considerations?"
"Better quarters, perhaps. Assignment to duties that keep her away from the Emperor's attention. Protection from the jealousies and rivalries that plague the harem." Yarihc paused. "And perhaps, eventually, opportunities for the two of you to... reconnect."
The offer was carefully calculated. Yarihc had no intention of actually helping Matthias win his lost love—such a relationship would violate imperial law and result in death for both parties. But the hope was enough to secure the young mage's cooperation.
"I... I would be grateful for any help you could provide, Your Highness."
"Excellent. Then we have an understanding." Yarihc stood, smoothing his robes. "I'll speak with the harem administrators about Lyanna's situation. In return, I hope you'll keep your ears open for anything that might interest me."
"What sort of things, Your Highness?"
"Palace gossip, rumors among the servants, conversations between nobles that you might overhear. Nothing that would compromise your position or violate your oaths—simply the sort of information that flows through the palace like water."
Matthias nodded eagerly. "I understand, Your Highness. And... thank you. For even considering helping her."
"Think nothing of it. We must all help each other when we can." Yarihc moved toward the door, then paused. "Oh, and Matthias? This conversation should remain between us. I wouldn't want others to misunderstand my interest in palace affairs."
"Of course, Your Highness. Not a word."
As Yarihc left the Grimoire Tower, he felt the familiar satisfaction of a successful recruitment. Matthias would provide him with information from the magical community, access to rumors and gossip from the servant quarters, and potentially useful magical services if the need arose.
The young mage would also serve as a test case for Yarihc's ability to manipulate through hope and desire. If he could control someone's emotions effectively, he could control their actions—a valuable skill for the political battles ahead.
The night air was cool as he walked back through the palace gardens, the scent of jasmine still heavy around him. Tomorrow would bring the tournament's final day, and with it the revelation of Princess Kira's supposed treason. But tonight had been about building for the future, creating the network of informants and allies that would serve him in the years to come.
Power was not just about strength or royal blood—it was about information, influence, and the ability to make others do your will. Tonight, he had added another piece to his growing collection of human assets.
As he approached the main palace, Yarihc allowed himself a small smile. The game was becoming more complex, but that only made it more interesting. And he intended to win, no matter what the cost might be to others.