(That evening, inside the White Castle, Riven’s POV)
That evening, Riven met Lucius at the older man’s request, as the grey-haired Hypnotist looked towards him with unusually complicated emotions lingering within his eyes.
"I heard your meeting with the Bannermen went exceptionally well."
Lucius said, as a faint smile appeared upon his weathered face.
"The reports I received suggest that you carried yourself with the utmost grace and dignity throughout the entire luncheon.
For that...
I am very proud of you, Young Lord."
Riven acknowledged the praise with a small nod.
"Thank you."
He replied calmly.
Yet despite the politeness of the exchange, both men could clearly feel the distance that now existed between them.
Ever since the massacre inside the laboratory, something between them had quietly broken.
Although Riven continued treating Lucius with the respect expected of a trusted retainer, the unquestioning faith he had once placed in the man had disappeared.
He no longer looked at Lucius with the same warmth, nor did he instinctively believe everything the man said.
After several uncomfortable moments of silence, Riven finally spoke.
"Why have you summoned me here today, Lucius?"
He asked in a calm yet commanding voice, as Lucius instinctively lowered his gaze rather than meeting the boy’s eyes.
"I... have called you here because the Duke..."
He began slowly.
"...your Father... believes you are still slightly too soft in the way you project yourself."
Riven’s brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.
Lucius continued before the boy could interrupt.
"He wants you to become more domineering.
More unpredictable.
More difficult for your enemies to understand.
He wants you to be a mad dog, that makes the whole world fear the Dawnriver name once again."
His voice remained unusually subdued.
"He believes that if people fear you, they will think twice before standing against House Dawnriver."
Riven remained silent.
Rather than immediately questioning the statement, he patiently allowed Lucius to finish speaking.
"You know how fathers can be..."
Lucius continued with a tired smile that never quite reached his eyes.
"They always wish to make their children stronger than themselves."
"Your Father believes that although you have become an exceptional noble...
You are still too likeable."
"If you entered the Imperial Academy exactly as you are today, you would likely gather many friends alongside many enemies."
He slowly shook his head.
"That is not the future he envisions for you."
"He wants you to stand above your peers.
To become someone without equal."
"And because of that..."
Lucius hesitated for several long seconds before forcing himself to continue.
"...he has decided that you will spend the remaining month before your admission somewhere else."
Only then did Riven finally interrupt.
"Where?"
He asked quietly.
"And... why does Father think so little of me?"
The question struck Lucius harder than he expected.
He closed his eyes briefly before letting out a long, weary sigh.
"I don’t know, Young Lord."
He answered honestly.
"And even if I did...
I have not been authorized to tell you."
He slowly looked back towards Riven.
"The only thing I can tell you... is that the Duke believes he is doing this because he cares for you."
"He believes it is necessary."
"He believes..."
Lucius’s voice faltered.
"...that this is what is best for you."
For the briefest of moments, silence settled over the room.
Then—
*Thk*
A sharp sting suddenly shot through the side of Riven’s neck.
"Ouch!"
He exclaimed instinctively, his hand immediately rising towards the source of the pain.
Only then did he notice the small tranquiliser dart protruding from his neck.
His eyes widened.
"W... what...?"
The room suddenly tilted.
His legs gave way beneath him before he could even pull the dart free.
He crashed heavily onto one knee.
"W-What’s... happening...?"
He muttered, as his words gradually became slurred while his vision blurred beyond recognition.
The walls seemed to sway.
The faces around him became indistinct shadows.
With the last of his remaining strength, Riven instinctively looked towards Lucius.
The old Hypnotist still stood exactly where he had been.
His head remained lowered, unable to even watch the boy lose consciousness.
A bitter smile slowly formed across Riven’s lips.
"Are you going to do me wrong, like Garron?"
He whispered, as darkness finally consumed him.
—-------
When Riven finally opened his eyes again, the first thing he noticed was that the luxurious Dawnriver robes he had been wearing were gone.
Instead, his body had once again been dressed in the sort of filthy rags he had worn during his days as a slave.
Mud caked his trousers.
Dried blood stained the sleeves.
Sweat, grime, and layers of dirt clung stubbornly to every inch of exposed skin, while the sour stench of mildew, rust, and human filth hung heavily within the air.
For a brief moment, Riven genuinely wondered whether everything that had happened over the past week had merely been a dream.
The White Castle.
The luncheon.
His Father’s acknowledgement.
Had any of it truly happened?
*Clink*
The metallic sound immediately shattered that thought.
Looking down, Riven found a heavy iron shackle fastened securely around his right wrist, its thick chain disappearing into the cold stone wall behind him.
Only then did he finally raise his head.
Towering iron bars stood before him, separating him from a dimly lit corridor beyond.
He was inside a prison cell.
’Where... the hell am I?’
Riven wondered, as the final conversation he had shared with Lucius suddenly resurfaced within his mind.
’You are too gentle still, Young Lord...
Your Father wants you to become a mad dog...’
He recalled, as the memory sent an uneasy feeling crawling down his spine.
’What does Father want from me?’
He wondered, however, before he could gather his thoughts any further, a burst of laughter echoed through the corridor.
"He finally woke up!"
A man’s voice entered his ears.
"Oi! Fresh meat’s awake!"
Another voice spoke, as instinctively, Riven turned towards the sound.
Across the narrow corridor, two men had already stepped up to the iron bars of the cell opposite his own, both gripping the rusted metal as they leaned forward, their eyes fixed entirely upon him.
Even from a distance, there was something deeply unsettling about the expressions on their faces, as they studied his body from top to bottom with lust evident in their eyes.
"Hey you, how old are you? You’re quite young, yeah?"
The man with the broken rotting teeth and ugly orange hair said, as Riven ignored his question completely.
"No! Diddy, this one is mine!"
The man occupying the right cell said, as the two began to internally squabble.
"You already called dibs on the last newcomer Jeffery.
This one is mine!"
Diddy complained, as Jeffery began biting his cell door in protest.
"I’LL KILL YOU IF YOU TOUCH HIM DIDDY, BY MORNING TOMORROW, HE WILL CALL ME DADDY!"
Jeffery yelled, as Riven felt an uncomfortable shiver run down his spine as he heard the two men fight over him.
’The hell is this place?’
He wondered, as although he had no idea as to why his father had suddenly decided to send him to a prison.
He was going to be damned if he let either of these two morons harm a hair on his body.