Lord Valerius's words, delivered with chilling precision, echoed in the quiet chambers of the Duke's Keep long after his departure. "You are more than you seem, Elias. Be wary. Even a prodigy can be broken." It was a direct declaration, a cold promise of heightened scrutiny. My existence, once merely observed, was now under the microscope of a man whose intellect was as sharp as his ambition was boundless.
The days that followed were a delicate, constant performance. Valerius's presence seemed to expand, his shadow falling across every corner of my new world. He no longer confined his observations to the study. I would catch glimpses of him in the long corridors, in the courtyard during my supervised outdoor moments, his gaze a physical weight on my small form. He was testing me, constantly. I could feel his silent questions, his attempts to discern the true depth of my consciousness beyond the guise of childhood.
My counter-strategy was one of calculated simplicity. When Valerius was near, my movements became a fraction clumsier, my attention more easily distracted by a fluttering curtain or a distant sound. My responses to Seraphina's lessons, while still accurate, became slightly less immediate, requiring a moment more of apparent childish thought. I would seek out Seraphina's proximity, intuitively sensing her protective nature. She, in turn, seemed to notice Valerius's increased interest, though she mistook it for genuine intrigue rather than suspicion. Her sisterly vigilance became my unwitting shield.
"Lord Valerius has suggested you begin lessons with the Montala Temple scribes," Seraphina informed me one morning, her brow furrowed with concern. "He believes your mind is ready for deeper sacred texts. I argued that your understanding is still foundational, and that I can guide you perfectly well." She paused, her eyes searching mine. "He is very insistent, Elias. He says it is for your spiritual advancement."
The temple scribes. A direct plunge into the heart of Montala dogma, without the intellectual filter Seraphina provided. It was a clear attempt by Valerius to isolate me, to peel away the layers of my facade where he could apply his own, more rigorous, tests. I tilted my head, offering her a look of innocent confusion, then reached for her hand.
"Do not worry, little one," she murmured, her voice soft with reassurance. "I will speak with Father. Your place is here." Her quiet resolve, born of her affection, was my greatest defense. She would fight to keep me close, providing the vital buffer I needed.
Despite the mounting pressure, my internal education surged ahead. Valerius, in his very scrutiny, provided invaluable insights into the Montala Church's inner workings. He spoke frequently with other influential priests and courtiers, their hushed conversations occasionally reaching my ears. I pieced together fragments about the Church's financial interests, its political alliances, and its ruthless methods for rooting out dissent. The 'Purification Tithe' I had learned about was not merely about funds; it was a tool for asserting the Church's dominance over the Duke himself, leveraging piety to demand compliance.
My physical abilities continued to advance. I could now walk with a steady gait, open doors (with some effort), and even climb onto low chairs. This growing autonomy allowed me brief, fleeting moments of exploration within the Keep. During these excursions, my mind meticulously mapped the corridors, the stairwells, the various chambers, searching for hidden passages, unguarded exits, or even just secluded places for refuge. I was building a mental blueprint of my gilded cage.
One tense afternoon, as Seraphina momentarily left the study to fetch a specific scroll, I heard the distinctive, measured footsteps of Valerius approaching. My small heart quickened, a primal alarm blaring. He was coming for me, directly, without a buffer. My eyes darted around the room, assessing. There was no time to escape to a known corridor. My gaze fell upon a large, ornate wooden chest, typically used to store dusty, forgotten documents. It was large enough, just barely.
With clumsy, hurried movements, I scrambled towards it, my small fingers fumbling with the heavy brass latch. The lid was heavier than I anticipated, but adrenaline lent me strength. I forced it open just enough to squeeze my body inside, pulling the heavy lid down, leaving only a hairline crack of light near the top. As the lid settled, muffling the world, I heard the study door open.
Valerius entered. I held my breath, every muscle tense. He didn't speak. I could sense his presence, a cold, still void in the room. His footsteps were slow, deliberate, crossing the floor. He paused, his presence looming. I felt the faintest tremor as he stopped directly beside the chest. A light, rhythmic tap-tap-tap sounded on the wooden lid, directly above my head. A predator, testing the limits of its prey's hiding place.
The tapping ceased. The weight of his silence pressed down on me. Then, his footsteps moved away, receding towards the door. The distinct click of the latch confirmed his departure.
I remained still for several long minutes, my body rigid, before slowly, cautiously, pushing the lid open. The study was empty. He had known. Or at least, he had suspected. My quick, instinctive hiding had proven my cunning, an intelligence far beyond my years. The net was tightening around me, the invisible threads of Valerius's scrutiny drawing ever closer. The game had just escalated, and I was playing for stakes far greater than merely maintaining a facade. My survival depended on outmaneuvering a man who saw me as an enigma to be solved, or broken.