ESPERSIA: Requiem of a Revolutionary

ESPERSIA, YEAR 1889

Why here?

Why was I reincarnated into this mess? A world where I'm being hunted, and I have no idea where the danger's coming from. It's like I left one fire just to land in another. I thought reincarnation was supposed to be a second chance, but it's starting to feel more like some twisted punishment.

James—me—spent years looking over his shoulder, never knowing who to trust, always waiting for the next knife in the back. And now, here I am, as Zeliot Valoria, surrounded by family that might want me dead. Doesn't seem like much of an upgrade.

I look down the empty corridor, the stone floors stretching out before me, silent and cold. It's too quiet. Too still. That same old instinct is kicking in, the one that tells me someone's watching, waiting for me to slip up. I can't shake the feeling that, just like in my old life, someone here wants me gone.

But it doesn't make sense. Why was I reincarnated if this is how it ends? There has to be a reason. Maybe this is my shot to do things differently—to avoid the mistakes I made before. James trusted the wrong people, got too close to the fire, and it burned him in the end. Maybe here, I'm supposed to be smarter. Keep my distance. Stay alive.

Why this family? Why this world?

I thought reincarnation would be a clean slate, but it's like I was dumped right back into the flames. If anything, it's worse now—I don't even know who my enemies are. It could be anyone: someone in this house, someone from outside, or maybe... maybe I'm just paranoid. Stuck in survival mode.

But that instinct... I can't ignore it. Not again.

Maybe that's why I'm here. To figure it out. To make sure I don't end up like James—dead before I knew who to blame. This time, I'm not letting anyone get the jump on me.

"Zeliot, you there?"

I blinked and turned to see Raamiz, standing just a few feet away, looking at me like I'd lost my mind. His arms were crossed, that familiar smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"You've been standing there for a while, looking all... intense." He waved his hand in front of my face. "Are you even listening?"

I hadn't even noticed him. My instincts were slipping. Damn it.

"Yeah, sorry," I muttered, trying to pull myself together. "Just... thinking."

"Well, stop thinking so much. We've got places to be. Let's get a move on, or they'll wonder where we went."

I nodded, pushing away the thoughts racing through my head. We had overheard more than enough. We needed to get out of this hallway before we got caught.

The corridors were dark, the only light coming from the dim torches along the stone walls. The air felt thick, almost suffocating in the silence of the night. I followed Raamiz's lead as we slipped back into the shadows of the passage, our footsteps barely audible on the stone floor.

Raamiz glanced over his shoulder, giving me a quick nod as we rounded the corner. His movements were sharp, more cautious than usual. He was always reckless, but even he knew the stakes tonight. One wrong move, and it was over.

We kept moving, hugging the walls of the dimly lit corridor. I could hear faint voices in the distance, but they were far enough away not to be a threat. The castle felt even more intimidating at night—endless hallways, shadows that seemed to stretch and twist with each flicker of the torchlight.

As we approached a narrow staircase that led back to the servant's quarters, Raamiz suddenly stopped. He pressed himself against the wall, motioning for me to do the same.

Footsteps.

Again.

The guards were making their rounds, the steady clink of armor echoing through the hallway. My heart pounded in my chest as I flattened myself against the stone wall. Raamiz held a finger to his lips, his eyes sharp as we waited for the guards to pass.

The footsteps grew louder, the sound filling the silence. My pulse quickened. We were out in the open—nowhere to hide. I held my breath, trying to calm my nerves, praying they wouldn't see us.

As the guards rounded the corner, they paused, their lanterns casting light across the floor. One of them muttered something, too low for me to make out, but I caught a few words—"Duke's orders… heightened security."

Raamiz tensed beside me, his jaw clenched. Heightened security? Did they know something? Were we in more trouble than I thought?

The guards stood there for what felt like an eternity, talking in low voices. I could barely make out what they were saying, but it didn't matter. All I could focus on was the pounding of my heart and the fear that any second they'd turn and see us standing there.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the guards continued on their way, their footsteps fading into the distance.

Raamiz let out a quiet breath, glancing at me. "That was too close," he muttered, his usual cocky attitude replaced with genuine tension.

I nodded, feeling my pulse still racing. Way too close.

Just as we were about to move again, Raamiz froze, his gaze fixed straight ahead. My body tensed, and I followed his line of sight—Alba.

Alba was standing at the end of the corridor, half-hidden in shadow. He wasn't supposed to be there. He shouldn't have been there.

His gaze flicked from Raamiz to me, his expression unreadable. My heart sank. Had he seen us hiding?

For a brief second, no one moved. The air between us felt heavy, like everything was about to shatter.

"Zeliot. Raamiz." Alba's voice was calm, too calm.

Raamiz straightened up, his face composed but the tension still clear. "Alba," he said coolly. "Fancy seeing you here. Midnight stroll?"

Alba stepped forward, his eyes still on me. "What are you two doing out so late?" His tone was even, but I could sense the suspicion beneath it.

"Just... clearing our heads," Raamiz said with a shrug, trying to brush it off. "You know, after that little dinner."

Alba didn't respond immediately. His gaze moved between the two of us, as though weighing his options. He wasn't stupid. He had to know we were up to something. But instead of pressing the issue, he merely raised an eyebrow.

"You should get back to your chambers," he said quietly, but his voice held an edge of warning. "Before someone else finds you."

I swallowed, trying to keep my face neutral, but my mind was racing. Why wasn't he pressing further?

"Right, of course," Raamiz said, flashing a quick smile, but I could tell it was forced. He took a step toward Alba. "And what about you? Shouldn't the eldest son be... resting, too?"

Alba's eyes narrowed just slightly. He didn't rise to the bait. Instead, he turned on his heel, heading in the opposite direction without another word.

As his footsteps faded into the darkness, I exhaled a breath I didn't realize I was holding. Again, that was way too close. Theme of the night apparently.

Raamiz shook his head, muttering under his breath. "Well, that was... interesting. Seems like we're not the only ones keeping secrets tonight."

I glanced at him, trying to process what had just happened. Alba had known. He could have easily reported us, or worse, interrogated us on the spot. But he didn't.

Why?

Raamiz, ever the first to break the tension, gave me a nudge. "Come on, Zeliot. Let's get out of here before Alba changes his mind."

I nodded, following Raamiz as we quickly made our way back through the winding halls. My mind was spinning. What did Alba know? What had he heard?

As we slipped into the shadows again, Alba's parting words echoed in my head: "Before someone else finds you."

What had that meant?

We rounded a corner, and kept on moving. I wasn't sure if Raamiz was as shaken as I was—his face was hard to read, but he was unusually quiet, leading me through the dimly lit halls with quick, purposeful steps.

"Raamiz," I finally whispered, glancing around nervously. "Where exactly are we going?"

Raamiz slowed his pace slightly and shot me a sidelong look, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "We need to talk. My chambers are the best place for that right now. Unless you want to have a heart-to-heart right here in the middle of the hallway?"

I frowned. "Your chambers? Isn't that going to look a bit suspicious?"

He let out a low chuckle, though there was a seriousness in his eyes. "Suspicious is my middle name. People are always wondering what I'm up to. Nothing new there. Trust me, it's fine."

I sighed but followed him anyway. "Alright, lead the way."

Soon enough, we reached Raamiz's chambers. Standing by the door was a tall, broad-shouldered guard I didn't recognize—clearly Raamiz's usual protector.

"Lord Raamiz, Lord Zeliot," the guard greeted with a respectful nod, his eyes scanning the both of us. "It's quite late. Is everything in order?"

Raamiz waved a hand dismissively, flashing the guard a grin. "Everything's just dandy, old friend. Just taking my brother for a little chat. You know how it is."

The guard's gaze lingered on me for a moment before returning to Raamiz. He didn't seem convinced, but he stepped aside without further comment. "Very well, my lord. I'll be stationed here if you need anything."

Raamiz clapped him on the arm. "Good man. You're doing the realm proud."

With that, we slipped inside. The moment the door closed behind us, Raamiz's lighthearted demeanor dropped. He crossed the room and collapsed into a chair by the window, running a hand through his tousled hair.

"Alright, Zeliot," he said, his voice low and serious now. "We need to figure out what just happened back there."

I didn't sit immediately. My eyes drifted around the room—Raamiz's chambers were filled with clutter. Maps, scrolls, books, and papers were strewn across his desk and shelves, giving the place a look of organized chaos. It suited him. After a moment, I sat across from him, still unsettled.

"Alba could questioned us further," I muttered. "But he didn't. Why?"

Raamiz leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "That's the million-gold question, isn't it?" His gaze was intense. "Alba's always thinking ahead. He wouldn't let something like this slide unless there was more going on."

I nodded, a knot tightening in my chest. "Do you think he's involved in what happened to me?"

Raamiz hesitated, his eyes narrowing. "It's hard to say. But something about this whole situation stinks. I gotta believe that what happened to you was just an accident. And if Alba knows something, he's not telling us everything."

A cold chill crept up my spine. "So you think he's working with someone else? Or that he's protecting us?"

Raamiz exhaled sharply, rubbing his chin in thought. "Alba's not careless, Zeliot. If he's involved, he's either part of the bigger plot or trying to keep us from stepping into something even worse." He met my gaze, his eyes shadowed with uncertainty. "But we can't trust him. Not yet."

Silence filled the room, the crackle of the fireplace the only sound as the weight of the situation settled between us. My thoughts spun, but nothing clicked. Nothing made sense.

Raamiz stared into the flames, lost in thought for a moment, before turning to face me.

"Look," Raamiz finally said, turning to face me, his tone serious but not unkind. "Before we go any further, I'm going to have to educate you on some things."

I frowned, confused. "What do you mean?"

He sat forward, his elbows resting on his knees, eyes fixed on mine. "I know you've spent most of your life as a shut-in. You've been shielded, Zeliot. Amelia—your mother—she's made sure of that. For years, she's kept you away from the inner workings of the family, the politics, the way things really are."

I frowned. His words settled over me like a heavy cloak, and he wasn't wrong. Even after all that reading, I felt like I was working with a half-empty toolkit. Zeliot's memories popped up in frustrating little pieces—never enough to give me a clear view, especially when it came to anything important.

Raamiz studied me for a moment, then continued, his voice softening. "Meanwhile, my mother, Duchess Gaius, didn't exactly offer me the same luxury. I've known the stakes from the start. And as an unpleasant result, I know the game about as good as anyone else."

I let out a low breath. Great. Another world where I have no idea what's going on and everyone around me has a head start. It was like déjà vu, but worse. At least in my old life, I knew who was out to get me. Well actually…

"Alright," I said, meeting Raamiz's gaze. "Tell me. Because clearly, I don't know a thing."

Raamiz blinked, caught off guard by my sudden shift in tone. But a moment later, a smile grew on his face—not his usual playful smirk, but something more genuine. "Good. Because once you understand how things really are, there's no turning back."

I nodded, my jaw tight. That's fine, I thought. If this new life is going to throw me back into a world of power games and enemies, I might as well learn the rules. At least this time, I'm starting with a clean slate.

Raamiz stood up, stretching before heading toward a nearby shelf. He started pulling out a few books, a map, and some old scrolls. "Alright," he muttered, tossing the materials onto the table between us, "to make this simpler, we're gonna start from the top. Rather than guessing what you understand, it's easier if we do it all."

Well, that's rather convenient, I thought. At least I wouldn't have to piece everything together myself. Raamiz could save me the effort.

He laid out the map of our territory first, pointing at key locations. "Queen Gaius, as you obviously know, is the Duke's first wife. She's the mother of Alba, Idris, and yours truly." He glanced up at me, expecting a nod of recognition, which I gave him. "Naturally, her goal is to secure Alba as the next head of the household."

I leaned forward, thinking it over. "Doesn't that just... happen? I mean, isn't it automatic that the oldest takes over?"

Raamiz's grin widened, but this time it had an edge to it. "Zeliot," he chuckled, shaking his head. "And here I thought you were getting smarter. Then you bring me back to reality." There was a teasing lilt to his voice, not harsh, but enough to make me raise an eyebrow. "No, it's not automatic. Technically, the current head—Father—has to assign the heir. The oldest son isn't guaranteed the position."

I blinked. "So Alba could… not be the heir?"

Raamiz nodded. "Exactly. Tradition says the head picks whoever they think is most fit to run the household. Of course, Alba is the most likely candidate, but it's not a sure thing."

Something clicked, and I couldn't help but voice it. "Wait, so that's what Idris meant at dinner—when he said 'the real event to begin.' He was talking about the Duke naming the heir soon."

Raamiz's expression shifted, a flicker of surprise passing through his eyes. "Not bad, Zeliot. Yeah, that's exactly what he meant. Everyone's waiting for the Duke to make his move."

For a moment, I felt a strange mix of pride and unease. Okay, maybe Zeliot's memories are more useful than I thought, I mused, though James was still doing most of the heavy lifting up here.

"But," Raamiz continued, leaning back in his chair, "there's more to it. Gaius might have Alba lined up for the title, but there's always a chance Father could name someone else. And trust me, that's what's keeping everyone on edge."

I furrowed my brow, the pieces starting to come together, but something still didn't sit right. "Wait… do you think Gaius is worried about me getting picked?"

Raamiz paused, his fingers tracing the edge of the map absentmindedly. He let out a small breath, as if he'd been waiting for me to ask that question. "Well, it's just a theory," he said, leaning back in his chair. "I don't have anything solid yet, but if I know my mother? Yeah. She's definitely worried."

I stared at him, incredulous. "Worried? About me? Why?"

Raamiz's eyes narrowed slightly, his expression sharpening. "Because of your mother. Amelia holds favor with nearly every important aristocrat in Indra—lords, council members, all those high and mighty types. If it comes down to a decision, and the Duke hesitates… well, his hand might be forced. He could have no choice but to pick you."

I blinked, trying to process that. "But… I've never done anything. I've barely left my chambers most of my life, right? How could I possibly be a threat to Alba?"

Raamiz grinned, though it was more sardonic than anything. "You underestimate the power of influence, brother. Amelia might've kept you sheltered, but make no mistake—she's been working behind the scenes for years. Building alliances, currying favor, and gaining enough political clout that if she wanted to, she could practically bend the Duke's decision in her favor."

I slumped back, the implications of it hitting me. I guessed Amelia must be a prominent figure, but I never thought it would directly affect me like this.

"So, because of her, I might actually be a contender for head of the house…" I muttered, more to myself than to Raamiz.

"Exactly," Raamiz replied, his voice steady but serious now. "And if Gaius sees that threat... well, let's just say she's not one to leave things to chance."

I leaned forward, staring at Raamiz, my mind still trying to process everything he'd just said. "Okay, I get what you're implying… but why are you helping me so much, Raamiz? What's in it for you?"

Raamiz appeared perplexed, then let out a short laugh. "Isn't it obvious? I like you far more than anyone else in this annoying ass family." He shrugged, the grin on his face not quite reaching his eyes. "There's a reason I've always had your back."

I studied him for a moment, the easy answer not sitting right with me. "Is that really it?" I asked, leaning forward. "I feel like you're leaving something out. Almost like you're betraying—"

Raamiz cut me off, his smirk fading just a little. "Let's also just say I have a bit of a personal grudge, alright?" His tone was casual, but I could sense the undercurrent of something deeper, something that ran hotter than he was letting on.

"A grudge?" I repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah." He didn't elaborate, just flashed me another grin, though it felt a bit forced. "Let's leave it at that for now."

If he says so. I would think about 'this grudge' more if I did not have my own ass to look out for. 

I closed my eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. When I opened them, I asked, "Okay, so what should I do?"

Raamiz leaned back slightly, crossing his arms, his expression shifting from playful to thoughtful. "Good, you're quick on the uptake. First, let me make one thing clear—it doesn't have to be Gaius who has it out for you, that's just a very circumstantial theory. There are plenty of other nobles who'd benefit from seeing you dead." He leaned in slightly, his voice lowering. "In other words, be wary of everyone. Don't just assume you know who's after you."

I nodded slowly. "That seems… intuitive. But come on, Raamiz, I can't defend myself like this."

Raamiz sighed, his fingers drumming lightly on the table. "Look, I don't think anyone's going to strike while you're out in the open. No one's that stupid. And with Father beefing up security, you'll be safe enough for now."

"Even so," I muttered, glancing down at my hands. "It's not like I can just keep relying on guards."

Raamiz tilted his head, giving me a half-amused, half-sympathetic look. "Yeah, I get it. You want to be able to handle yourself." He paused, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face before he added, "Well, I was going to handle this alone, but... I guess it makes sense to loop you in now."

A confused look appears on my face. "Handle what?"

A slow exhale escaped him, and he shook his head with an almost rueful expression. "You'll find out soon enough," he said, his tone cryptic. "Let's just say it'll solve your 'self-defense' problem. I'll fill you in when the time's right."

"Wait—what are you planning?"

Raamiz's eyes glinted with something between mischief and determination. "Trust me, you'll want in on this. I'll get you the details later."

I raised an eyebrow. "You're really going to leave it like that?"

He just shrugged. "Patience, brother. All in good time. For now, get some rest. It's been a night."

I was about to nod and leave, but something held me back. Raamiz, noticing my hesitation, leaned back and crossed his arms.

"You know," he said, surprisingly serious, "you could stay here tonight. Avoid the whole walk back. You look like you've been through it."

I blinked at him, caught off guard. From what I've gathered, Raamiz never offered anything without a hint of mischief, but this… this was genuine. "You want me to stay?"

He rolled his eyes. "Don't make it weird. You look rattled. It's late. Your call."

I considered it. The thought of staying, of avoiding the long, quiet walk back to my chambers, definitely had its appeal. But... "Gregory's going to freak out if I don't check in. Amelia would know by morning, and you know what a scene that'll cause."

Raamiz sighed dramatically, falling back onto the bed."Gregory, right. Forgot you had a watchdog glued to your side."

I feigned a smile, but I wasn't wrong. If I didn't show up, Gregory would report me missing, and that would bring a whole heap of attention we didn't need. "I'll go back, check in, make sure he's not hovering outside my door all night."

Raamiz gave me a lazy nod, but before I could leave, a question gnawed at me. My hand hovered over the door handle. "One last thing. What's your take on the Legon arranged marriage?"

Raamiz's face shifted, his easygoing demeanor faltering for just a second. He scratched the back of his neck, looking almost... unsure. "Honestly? Haven't had the time to think much about it. Been focused on more urgent things." He gave me a knowing look, his previous words about protecting myself still lingering.

I start to open my mouth,but before I could press, he waved it off. "We'll talk about it later. Right now, you should get back before Gregory blows a fuse. Try to get some sleep, Zeliot. You're gonna need it."

I nodded, feeling the complexity of everything settling back in. "Yeah. Goodnight, Raamiz. And… thank you."

Raamiz sits up from his bed, with a slight sigh. "Moron, no need to thank me, its the least I can do. But, for what its worth, its my pleasure."

I turn again to leave, with a small part of me still wondering what else Raamiz wasn't telling me. But that was a problem for tomorrow. Right now, I just needed to get through the night.

I made my way back to my chambers, to perhaps find Gregory lounging by my door, maybe giving me a half-hearted nod before retreating back into his usual silence. Instead, as I rounded the corner, I froze.

The corridor felt darker than it should have.

No Gregory.

In his place, a taller, bulkier figure loomed by the door. He wasn't pacing, wasn't fidgeting—just standing still, like he was waiting for something to happen. The flickering light from the nearby torches cast long shadows, making him seem even larger.

The man watched me approach, his eyes tracking me like a predator waiting for the right moment to strike. The muscles in my neck tightened. The silence between us stretched, the quiet so thick it felt like the stone walls themselves were closing in.

Who was this man? Where is Gregory?

Then it hit me. That man… the one who supposedly saved me.

"Luca?" I blinked, more out of surprise than recognition. "What are you doing here?"

He looked at me with that familiar intensity, one that usually signaled something serious. "Your late. We need to talk, Zeliot."