Chapter 5 | Part 3

“House Vrinn is threatening my family.”

Drusniel stood in Zaelar’s study, chest heaving from the morning’s training exercises. He hadn’t meant to say it—hadn’t planned to bring his family’s problems into the tower—but the words came out anyway. The weight of the family meeting, the fear in his father’s eyes, the sense of encircling danger—it had to go somewhere.

Zaelar set down the text he’d been reading. His study smelled of old paper and ink, hourglasses ticking on every surface. Three hundred of them, at least, each measuring time in different intervals.

“House Vrinn?”

“The rival house. They’ve been making aggressive moves for months. Mapping our patrols. Planning something.” Drusniel wiped sweat from his forehead. “Annariel warned me. He has access to intelligence reports through the training halls.”

“I see.” Zaelar’s expression shifted—something flickering behind those pale eyes that Drusniel couldn’t quite read. Interest? Calculation? The same look he got when examining an interesting specimen. “Yes… House Vrinn. They are dangerous indeed.”

The way he said it—too knowing, too measured—made Drusniel pause.

“You know them?”

“I know of them. Powerful house. Ambitious leaders. Their patriarch—Korenth, isn’t it?—has been expanding their influence for decades. They control significant territory in the southern districts, if I recall correctly.”

“Northern,” Drusniel corrected automatically. “They’re north of us. The mining sectors.”

“Ah. My information may be dated.” Zaelar’s expression didn’t change. “The Vrinns have always been aggressive, regardless of geography. Their founding matriarch seized power through assassination, you know. Three generations later, they still solve problems the same way.”

“How do you know so much about drow politics?”

“I make it my business to understand the underground world. Even from up here.” He turned back, his expression mild. “Tell me about their compound. Their patrol patterns. How many guards do they maintain?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Knowledge is power. If they’re your enemy, you should understand them.” He didn’t look up from the instruments on his desk. “Strategic assessment is part of any training. An air mage who can’t evaluate threats is a dead air mage.”

The explanation was reasonable. Logical. And yet—

“I don’t know their patrol patterns,” Drusniel said. “I’ve never been to their compound.”

“But your father knows. Your sister, certainly.” Zaelar’s head tilted slightly. “The assassin tracks these things. Entry points. Guard rotations. Weaknesses. The architecture of their defenses. How the sentries change shifts.”

Too specific. The questions were too specific for idle curiosity.

“Shyntara doesn’t share that kind of information.”

“Pity.” The word came out flat, almost dismissive. Then Zaelar seemed to catch himself, and his expression softened. “Forgive me. Old habits. When I was young, knowing an enemy’s defenses was survival. Every piece of information was currency. I forget that not everyone grew up in… my circumstances.”

He returned to his chair, and the strange intensity faded. Just a scholar again. A teacher concerned for his student.

“Focus on your training,” Zaelar said. “Power is the answer to enemies. When you’re strong enough, threats like House Vrinn become manageable.”

Drusniel nodded slowly. The conversation felt wrong—too many specific questions, too much interest in tactical details—but he couldn’t articulate why. Zaelar was helping him. Teaching him. Whatever his quirks, whatever his past, the magic was real.

“The exercise from yesterday,” Drusniel said, pushing the unease aside. “Air sensing. I want to practice it more.”

“Of course.” Zaelar smiled, and it almost reached his eyes. “Let’s begin.”

The training lasted until midday. By the time Drusniel left the tower, his head throbbed and his legs felt unsteady—the usual price of pushing his limits.

But as he walked the surface passages back toward Umbra’kor, the conversation replayed in his mind.

Tell me about their compound. Their patrol patterns.

Why would Zaelar care about House Vrinn’s defenses? He was a surface mage, isolated in his tower, removed from drow politics entirely. What possible use could he have for that information?

Knowledge is power.

Maybe that was all it was. Academic curiosity. The habit of an old strategist. Nothing more sinister than a teacher testing his student’s situational awareness.

And yet.

The questions had been too specific. Too probing. Like someone gathering intelligence rather than teaching a lesson.

Drusniel shook his head. Paranoia was a trap. “Annariel” had warned him to trust no one outside his family, but surely that didn’t include Zaelar. The mage who had given him power. The teacher who had filled the void.

His interest felt wrong, a small voice whispered. But he’s helping me.

The second thought drowned the first.

Drusniel continued home, counting his steps as he went. The numbers helped. The routine helped. The certainty that he was growing stronger—that helped most of all.

Whatever Zaelar’s interest in House Vrinn, it didn’t change the facts. The magic was real. The training was working. And when the time came to protect his family, Drusniel would be ready.

That was all that mattered.

End of Chapter 5.3 —> 5.4: The House Rivalry: The Night Before