Journey of the Scholar

The East Market Case—just the mention of it was enough to make the Vice-Commander's heart skip a beat. It had been an unresolved matter for weeks, a crime that had left both the authorities and the people unsettled.

A string of robberies, missing goods, and suspicious disappearances in the bustling marketplace had been causing unrest, and no concrete leads had surfaced.

The case had reached the ears of even the highest echelons of the palace, and now, it seemed, it had caught the interest of Prince Anish himself.

The Vice-Commander forced a smile, though inwardly, his mind raced. Why bring this up now? Was this the real reason for the prince's visit? His throat felt dry, but he maintained his composure as best he could.

"Your Highness," the Vice-Commander began, his voice steady, "the investigation is… still ongoing. We've deployed more men and resources, but the culprits have been exceptionally elusive. Rest assured, we will handle the situation soon."

Prince Anish's eyes, sharp and calculating, remained fixed on the practice ground for a moment longer before he slowly turned to face the Vice-Commander.

His expression hadn't changed, but his presence felt heavier. "Ongoing, you say?" There was a faint smile on his lips, but it lacked warmth.

"It seems the City Division has been quite busy, then. And yet, the people in the East Market continue to suffer losses. Curious, isn't it?"

The Vice-Commander's palms began to sweat. He knew that the prince's words were more than just casual conversation. There was an implication beneath the surface, one that made the Vice-Commander's pulse quicken.

"Indeed, Your Highness," the Vice-Commander replied, trying to maintain his calm. "We are doing everything in our power to—"

"I'm sure you are," Prince Anish interrupted, his tone still polite but with an unmistakable edge. "But the merchants and common folk are growing restless. "

"You know how quickly rumors spread, don't you, Vice-Commander?" His gaze turned toward the horizon, as though watching the winds themselves.

"The wind has ears. And when unrest stirs, it tends to grow into something much larger."

The Vice-Commander's smile faltered for just a fraction of a second. He knows something. The thought hit him like a slap to the face. Prince Anish wasn't just here for a casual inspection.

The East Market Case was merely a surface-level topic—there had to be something deeper at play. The prince was well aware of the tensions brewing in the capital, and his words felt like a veiled warning.

"I will ensure the investigation progresses swiftly," the Vice-Commander promised, bowing slightly. "We will bring justice to those affected and restore order."

Anish let the words hang in the air for a moment, as if weighing their sincerity. "Good," he finally said, his voice soft but dangerous. "I expect results soon. The palace is watching."

The Vice-Commander nodded, his heart racing. He knew exactly what that meant. The palace's interest was never casual—it was a looming presence, one that could topple careers or worse.

As Prince Anish turned back to observe the drills, the Vice-Commander stood in place, deep in thought. His instincts were screaming at him, warning him that the prince's visit wasn't just about the East Market Case.

This was a test—of loyalty, efficiency, and perhaps even his own position within the City Division. Whatever it was, one thing was clear: the prince had his eye on them, and failure was not an option.

With his thoughts swirling, the Vice-Commander stole a glance at the prince, who continued to watch the soldiers below with an unreadable expression. Anish's hand idly brushed against the intricate, embroidered sleeve of his royal robe, a subtle reminder of the power he wielded.

"By the way," the prince said casually, as though remembering something trivial, "I trust the men under your command are well-disciplined? After all, the capital can be an unpredictable place."

The Vice-Commander swallowed hard. "Of course, Your Highness. Discipline is paramount."

Anish's smile widened slightly, but the Vice-Commander felt no comfort in it. "Good," the prince said. "Let's hope they stay that way."

And with that, Prince Anish turned, his gaze sweeping over the practice ground once more before he began to walk away, his royal entourage falling into step behind him. The Vice-Commander watched him go, feeling the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air.

His mind raced, but one thing was certain: Prince Anish's visit was no simple inspection. Something far more dangerous was at play, and the City Division Guard had just been caught in the middle of it.

Atop the lavish Drunken Immortal Pavilion, Mask Prince sat by the window, sipping a fragrant tea. His face, as always, was concealed behind a porcelain mask, revealing only his sharp, calculating eyes.

The room, filled with the soft hum of conversation from below, was silent at the top. The luxurious surroundings seemed to matter little to him; his mind was elsewhere.

He was deep in thought when his attendant quietly approached and knelt before him, holding a scroll. Without a word, Mask Prince accepted it, unrolling the parchment to read the report.

His eyes skimmed the details: Prince Anish, personal visit to the City Division Guards' grounds. A peculiar move. Mask Prince leaned back in his chair, tapping the edge of his cup thoughtfully. His fingers drummed in a rhythmic pattern as his mind worked through the implications.

His brother wasn't one for meaningless gestures. Every action Prince Anish took had a deeper meaning—calculated, precise, and often hidden behind layers of subtext.

But this visit to the City Division? It felt like a provocation, or perhaps something more sinister.

Behind him, his loyal advisor, a man draped in black cloaks that obscured his face, stood silently. Though his presence was shadowed, his mind was razor-sharp, always ready to provide counsel in these delicate matters.

"What do you make of this?" Mask Prince asked quietly, still staring at the report, though his question was directed at the man in black.

Black Cloaks stepped forward, his voice a low, measured whisper. "It is unusual for your brother to visit such a place. I jest it must be related to something important—perhaps a case that has caught the palace's attention. The East Market Case, perhaps?"

Mask Prince's fingers paused mid-tap. "Yes, that's the case that has been stirring unrest. But why would he personally involve himself? He's not one to take a personal interest in the affairs of commoners unless there's something to gain."

Black Cloaks bowed his head slightly, his eyes narrowing behind the shadows of his hood. "Indeed. That's why we must tread carefully. It may be wise to contact our spies within the City Division and monitor the movements of Prince Anish. If he's making a play, we'll uncover his intentions soon enough."

Mask Prince chuckled softly, leaning forward as he placed the scroll onto the table. "Always the cautious one, aren't you? I agree—send word to our agents. Have them dig deep and report back immediately." His voice dropped an octave, amusement laced with something darker. "But what do you think, my old friend? Do you believe my dear brother is plotting something, or is he simply trying to stir the pot?"

Black Cloaks took a moment before responding, choosing his words carefully. "Prince Anish is no fool. If he's involved, then rest assured, there's a deeper layer to this. We just need to peel it back. Whatever the case, he's setting something into motion. We need to be prepared."

Mask Prince smiled under his mask, a crooked smile that barely reached his eyes. "Prepared, yes… but let's not get ahead of ourselves. I've always enjoyed watching him try. His little schemes always amuse me. Still, I'll have to make sure this doesn't interfere with my own plans. The last thing I need is for Anish to burn down the palace before I've had my fun."

As he said this, he waved a hand dismissively, signaling Black Cloaks to leave. The advisor bowed and left the room without a sound. Mask Prince stared out the window, watching the lively city below. The pieces were moving. But why now, Anish? What's your game?

Meanwhile, across the capital, the Crown Prince sat in his private study, a cold expression on his face as he read the same report.

His attendants had learned to stay silent when they brought him news—especially news about his younger brothers. Prince Anish was always the more calculating one, always stirring unrest with his subtle moves, while Mask Prince had his own hidden ambitions.

The Crown Prince exhaled sharply, setting the scroll down. His hand moved to the hilt of the ceremonial sword hanging on the wall behind him, fingers brushing the cool steel.

"Anish, what are you planning now?" he muttered to himself.

Though the Crown Prince was the official heir, he knew all too well how precarious his position was. The royal court was filled with snakes, and his brothers were among the most dangerous.

Anish's visit to the City Division Guard was unusual, to say the least.

He wasn't known for involving himself in the day-to-day affairs of governance, and yet, here he was, dipping his toes into something as public as the East Market Case.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. One of his closest confidants, a stout man with a sharp wit, entered the room and bowed deeply.

"Your Highness, I've heard rumors circulating about Prince Anish's visit. Should we be concerned?"

The Crown Prince's gaze was cold, his voice measured. "He's always scheming. We need to know more before we act. Keep a close watch on the City Division Guards and report back any unusual movements. And send a few men to observe Prince Anish's residence. Discreetly."

The confidant bowed again. "At once, Your Highness."

As the door closed behind him, the Crown Prince leaned back in his chair, deep in thought. Anish has always been too ambitious for his own good.

At the same time, in his lavish quarters, Prince Anish was reclining on a chaise, his eyes half-closed as he prepared for the evening. The events of the day had gone smoothly. His visit to the City Division had stirred just enough concern, and he knew the ripples would soon reach the palace.

He smiled to himself, a thin, unsettling smile. "I've started the spark," he whispered, more to himself than anyone else. "Now it's up to them to fan the flames."

He turned onto his side, feeling a creeping satisfaction wash over him. This was just the beginning of his move—a small but crucial step.

The East Market Case had been the perfect excuse, the perfect distraction. Let them chase shadows, while he pulled the strings from behind the scenes. He closed his eyes, the creepy smile still etched on his face.

"They won't know what hit them," he murmured before drifting into sleep.