Reivan had spent years perfecting the fine art of appearing like an absolute idiot when necessary. It was a skill he held dear, one that had saved his hide more times than he cared to count. But today? Today was a masterpiece in the making.
The royal court was a viper’s nest of politics, decorum, and thinly veiled threats wrapped in silk and honeyed words. Nobles, generals, and advisors all gathered in the grand hall, their expressions ranging from amusement to suspicion as he stood before them.
"Your Highness," one particularly well-dressed noble said, clearly testing him. "As someone well-versed in, ah, military affairs, surely you must have insight into the Empire’s recent movements?"
Reivan, ever the scholar of nonsense, put on his best 'confused but thoughtful' expression. He stroked his chin, furrowed his brow, and then—because he was truly dedicated to the role—tilted his head slightly, as if deep in contemplation.
"Well, if we consider the ancient doctrines of the Ebon-Winged Dynasty," he began, referencing an obscure in-game event that had absolutely no bearing on reality, "then clearly the Empire's strategy aligns with the celestial formation of the Twin Stars. Which, as we all know, foretells inevitable chaos should the Silvered Bloodline march northward."
Silence. Beautiful, glorious silence.
Then, as if on cue, the nobles began murmuring amongst themselves. Some nodded sagely, others frowned, and a few glanced nervously at each other.
Reivan had absolutely no idea what they had just convinced themselves of, but one thing was certain—he had successfully created a problem that didn’t exist.
A small victory.
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THE HEIR PRINCESS - A ROYAL PAIN (WITH A PLAN)
Princess Seraphina was watching all of this unfold from her elevated seat, fingers drumming against the armrest. She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or throttle someone.
Reivan was an enigma wrapped in ridiculousness. The man had the uncanny ability to talk in circles until people started seeing patterns that weren’t there. And judging by the looks on the nobles' faces, they were now convinced of some grand conspiracy involving celestial prophecies and the Silvered Bloodline.
She suppressed a sigh.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
"What do you think?" she murmured to her personal guard, who stood dutifully at her side.
"I think they’re about to rewrite military doctrine based on complete nonsense, Your Highness."
"That’s what I was afraid of."
Seraphina wasn't one to underestimate people, least of all someone like Reivan. He played the fool, but she had been raised in a court where deception was an art form. She could see the strings he was pulling, even if others were too caught up in their own egos to notice.
He wasn’t incompetent.
He was dangerous.
And she needed to know whether he was an ally or another problem waiting to explode in her face.
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NOBLES AND THEIR BAD DECISIONS
"Reivan," Lord Aldric, an older noble with too many medals and not enough common sense, leaned forward, "we’ve discussed your talents at length. It would be a shame to let them go to waste. Have you considered an official position? Perhaps a formal role within the royal council?"
Reivan smiled—an easy, harmless sort of grin that concealed the sheer panic exploding in his head.
An official position? No, no, no. That was how you ended up trapped in a gilded cage, forced to play their games on their terms. He needed to avoid that at all costs.
"Ah, honored lords and ladies," he said, making sure to inject just the right amount of dramatic humility into his voice. "I am but a simple man, unworthy of such great responsibility."
A lie. But a well-practiced one.
"Nonsense!" Aldric waved a hand. "You have insight beyond your years. With proper guidance, you could be a great asset to the kingdom."
And by "proper guidance," they meant "someone to keep an eye on him." Lovely.
"I'm afraid my heart lies elsewhere," Reivan said, placing a hand over his chest as if he were about to start reciting poetry. "I could never shackle myself to politics when my true passion lies in scholarly pursuits. The pursuit of knowledge, you see, is a noble goal in itself."
He could almost hear Sylpkx choking in the background.
The nobles exchanged glances. One of them whispered something about "independent minds" and "uncontrollable variables." Seraphina’s gaze sharpened ever so slightly.
Good. That was exactly what he wanted.
Better to be seen as unpredictable than as someone who could be manipulated.
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AFTERMATH - A MOST INTERESTING FOOL
As the meeting adjourned and the nobles dispersed, Seraphina remained seated, watching Reivan from across the hall. He was chatting idly with Sylpkx, looking for all the world like someone without a single care.
But she wasn’t fooled.
"You find him amusing, Your Highness?" her guard asked.
She tilted her head. "I find him... unusual."
"A fool?"
She smiled slightly. "Perhaps. But even fools can be dangerous if they know how to play the game."
Reivan had just declined an opportunity most would have killed for. And in doing so, he had ensured that every noble in that room saw him as an independent force—someone who couldn’t be controlled. That made him both a liability and a wild card.
Seraphina had spent her life navigating the treacherous waters of court politics, and she knew one thing for certain:
You never ignored a wild card.
And you certainly never underestimated one.