Conflicts were dangerous in a world without magic like Grievous's, let alone in a world where magic and magi were abundant.
The stakes were infinitely higher when sorcery could turn the tide of battle in mere moments. Because he understood this well, Grievous ruled out going to the capital before the required time came when he would be strong enough to wipe out everyone who faced him.
The capital was a place thick with intrigue and peril. The corridors of power were lined with whispers sharp as blades and alliances as fragile as glass. Human kingdoms and rule were undoubtedly attractive, with their promises of influence and order, but Grievous no longer had a desire for those simple, mortal things. His ambitions had soared beyond the petty squabbles of kings and nobles.
He wanted to become something stronger, something higher, beyond the mortal world. A force that would command respect not through title or lineage, but through sheer power and presence. The thought settled in his mind like a slow-burning fire, igniting a resolve that refused to be extinguished.
Time passed slowly. The afternoon sunlight filtered through tall windows, casting long shadows across the study where Carmion continued his explanation.
The scent of aged parchment and freshly brewed tea mingled in the air, creating an atmosphere of quiet focus. Edmund sat upright, his eyes fixed intently on the professor, absorbing the information as if he were a sponge that absorbed water easily.
Even without the enhancement of his comprehension by Grievous, that child had a golden memory and quick, flexible understanding.
His mind was a rare vessel, capable of holding vast amounts of knowledge without faltering. Whenever Carmion gave him more information, Edmund took it in and memorized it completely, his gaze never wavering.
Grievous observed the boy carefully, noting the subtle flicker of excitement in Edmund's eyes whenever a new concept clicked into place. The boy's youthful enthusiasm was a bright contrast to the cold ambition that simmered within Grievous himself.
Two hours passed. The sun had dipped lower, and the room had taken on a softer glow. Carmion sat down his cup of tea with a quiet clink. He looked at Grievous calmly, his voice steady and measured.
"He is a truly genius, and even when I checked with him at the end, he already understood everything."
Grievous nodded slightly, a faint trace of approval in his eyes.
"He undoubtedly has a bright future, Young Master Grievous."
Edmund's cheeks reddened as he heard the professor praise him sincerely. He shifted uncomfortably, lowering his gaze to the ground. His feet moved slightly, tapping against the floor as if trying to ground himself.
'I'm amazing!' he thought silently, a shy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
The praise was unfamiliar yet intoxicating. It filled him with a quiet pride that made his heart beat a little faster.
Grievous bid farewell to the professor, his expression unreadable but his eyes thoughtful. He then turned to Edmund, sitting down in front of him with a measured calm.
"You are indeed a genius," he said, his voice low but firm. "But remember: do not be arrogant in yourself so that you do not make foolish mistakes."
Edmund nodded in understanding, absorbing his father's words quietly. The weight of responsibility settled on his young shoulders, mingling with the pride he felt moments before.
Grievous stood up, his posture commanding attention even in stillness.
"Professor Mondelana is coming after some time. Rest a little until she comes."
Edmund nodded quietly, sinking back into the chair. He closed his eyes, retreating into his thoughts. The room grew silent except for the faint ticking of a clock in the corner.
He thought about the day's lessons, about the vastness of the knowledge he had yet to grasp. The challenges ahead seemed daunting, but the praise from Carmion gave him hope.
'I will not disappoint,' he promised himself.
Outside, the world continued its indifferent march. But inside that quiet study, a young mind was forging its path, guided by the steady hand of a father who knew the price of power.
Ten minutes later, the teacher entered the room, her presence calm yet commanding. The soft click of the door closing behind her echoed faintly, signaling the beginning of another lesson. Her eyes scanned Edmund with a practiced gaze, assessing his readiness for the day's instruction. After some brief, polite conversation, she settled into the chair opposite him, her posture upright and formal.
She began to give Edmund notes and lessons on etiquette, her voice steady and patient. She spoke of manners, posture, and the subtle art of carrying oneself with grace. Edmund listened intently, his brow furrowed slightly as he absorbed each word.
The lessons unfolded like a delicate dance, each step precise and intentional. Edmund quickly understood the importance behind the teachings, recognizing that etiquette was not mere formality but a tool to navigate the world with confidence.
The clock ticked steadily as the hour and a half passed in quiet focus. At last, the teacher gathered her materials, her expression satisfied with Edmund's progress. She rose gracefully and took her leave, the door closing softly behind her.
Edmund and Grievous remained alone in the room. The silence stretched for a moment before Edmund's eyes brightened and he spoke with earnest conviction.
"Dad, I want to be a mage!"
His voice held a spark of hope that lit up his youthful face. The slight shimmer in his eyes revealed a burning desire that was difficult to contain.
Grievous was not surprised in the slightest. He had known from the start how deeply the boy wished to follow the path of magic. He regarded Edmund with a calmness born of experience and understanding.
"You are still too young for this," Grievous said gently. "Wait until you are ten and then begin your magical journey."
The words were firm but kind. Edmund's shoulders slumped for a moment, a flicker of disappointment crossing his features. Yet, he quickly composed himself, the stubbornness of youth yielding to respect.
"So as Father says," he replied quietly.
Grievous caught the subtle shift in Edmund's expression. He understood the boy's inner struggle, his eagerness battling the wisdom of patience. Without saying a word, Grievous smiled softly, a quiet reassurance that he was heard and understood.
At first, Edmund had wanted to argue, to convince Grievous to change his mind. But he knew his father's resolve was steadfast. There was no use in pushing further. He had no choice but to surrender and wait.
Of course, like any young child, Edmund hated waiting. The days stretched long and slow before him, each moment a test of patience. But in the end, he accepted the delay. Waiting, after all, was better than never. His dreams were alive, even if they had to remain just out of reach for a while.
It was true that he was a genius. His talents shone brightly. But no matter how gifted, Edmund was still just a child.
Grievous stood and began moving toward the door, his steps measured.
"Review what you studied today," he advised. "Rest, and don't forget to go to the gym to improve your body."
His voice carried the weight of experience.
"A healthy mind needs a healthy body."
Edmund nodded quietly, absorbing the wisdom. He rose as well and quietly moved toward his room, leaving Grievous to his own quarters.
Once inside his room, Grievous settled into his chair. Before him, a chessboard materialized, the polished pieces gleaming under the soft light.
In his hand, he held Kaede's chess piece, a symbol of his intricate plans and the powers he sought to control.
"I can increase her luck, without a doubt," he murmured, eyes fixed on the piece as if it held secrets yet to be revealed.
"But if it exceeds what is necessary," he continued, "I fear she will decide to advance to the fourth rank, and thus she will be out of my control."
Grievous's brow furrowed. The balance was delicate. Too much influence might push Kaede beyond the boundaries he had set. Too little would be ineffective.
"I can give her a mental command not to try," he considered aloud, "but I don't want there to be a worrying variable that can't be controlled."
Control was everything. Grievous liked to be in control. Challenges that emerged unpredictably threatened his safety and his plans. They might harm him or even kill him.
He hummed softly, a sound both thoughtful and resigned, before turning his attention fully to the simulations that awaited him.
He immersed himself deeply, running through endless scenarios to increase his understanding of both his and Kaede's abilities.
Each simulation sharpened his mind, revealing new tactics and strategies for the confrontation he expected that very night.
Hours slipped by unnoticed. One, two, three, four, five, six hours passed as Grievous labored tirelessly in the mental arena.
Suddenly, his eyes shot open, the rare, bloody red spots within gleaming like precious gems in the dim light.
"Thirty four wins and twelve losses, huh," he said, touching his face, now damp with sweat from the intensity of his effort.
"The unconscious has really evolved," he muttered, a note of respect threading through his voice.
Then, closing his eyes, he whispered,
"Just one more time."
The night was far from over.