The Villain Professor's Second Chance

"It's not what I expected," Vera murmured under her breath, her gaze moving from the bustling market stalls to the various mechanical tools the citizens were using—devices that she had never seen before. The streets were lined with people carrying out their daily business, a far cry from the impoverished image the rumors had painted.

The shops were full, the roads paved, and even the air seemed cleaner, fresher.

Modric, the second-in-command of the Crown Cavaliers, rode beside her, his brow furrowed in a similar confusion. "Not at all," he agreed, glancing around. "For a place that's supposed to be on the verge of collapse, this is… well, impressive."

Aurelion, the capital of the Drakhan Earldom, was thriving. The people moved about with a sense of purpose, their expressions mostly focused but content. The streets were clean, and as they passed through the main square, they saw carriages loaded with goods moving in and out, seemingly headed for trade. The city, by all appearances, was flourishing in a way neither Vera nor Modric had anticipated.

Vera let out a slow breath, her eyes narrowing slightly. "I've heard whispers of improvements within the Drakhan territory over the past year, but I never imagined it would be this significant," she said, her tone carrying a hint of suspicion. "I thought it was just another one of Draven's schemes. You know how he's always manipulating information, spreading rumors to serve his own ends."

Modric glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. "So did I. But it seems like there's more to it than gossip. Look at them—" He gestured subtly to a group of workers using some sort of mechanical contraption to lift heavy crates. "—these tools, these machines… they're not something you see anywhere else in the kingdom. It's like they're years ahead of the rest of us."

Vera's grip tightened slightly on the reins of her horse as she mulled over Modric's words. It was true. The tools the workers were using, the general infrastructure of the city—it was unlike anything she had ever seen before. The rumors had been about Draven's cruelty, his underhanded dealings, and his manipulations, but this… this was different.

Modric cast a glance back at the fifty royal knights riding behind them. They were all well-trained, hardened soldiers, but even they seemed slightly unnerved by what they were seeing. The Drakhan Earldom had a reputation—a dark one—and though the city didn't match the rumors, the aura of power and history lingered in the air.

"It makes you wonder," Modric mused, lowering his voice as they passed by a group of townsfolk. "If Draven's territory is prospering like this, why are there still whispers of discontent?"

Vera didn't answer immediately, her eyes scanning the faces of the people they passed. There was something there—a wariness, a hesitation. The people weren't hostile toward them, but there was a tension in the air, as though they were holding their breath, waiting for something to happen.

"They're afraid," Vera said softly, her voice barely audible. "But not of us."

Modric's eyes flicked toward her, and for a moment, their gazes locked, a shared understanding passing between them. The people of Aurelion weren't afraid of the Crown Cavaliers, nor of the royal knights. They were afraid of something else—something that lurked in the shadows of their city, unseen but felt.

As they continued riding through the city, Modric's sharp ears caught a low murmur from a group of townsfolk. He slowed his horse slightly, turning his head just enough to listen in on their conversation.

"Don't tell me they're here for the lord," one of the townsfolk whispered anxiously. "Did the lord make a mistake? Are they going to take him?"

"Take him? Why would they do that?" another voice replied, equally low but filled with worry. "He's changed, hasn't he? I know he's done terrible things before, but lately… things have been getting better. A lot better."

There was a pause, and the first voice whispered back, "I heard it too. But… can someone really change like that?"

Modric's grip on the reins tightened slightly, and he glanced over at Vera, who had clearly heard the same whispers. Their eyes met again, and this time there was no need for words. Whatever Draven had done—whatever changes he had implemented—it hadn't erased the fear the people felt toward him. Despite the prosperity of the city, despite the apparent improvements, the people were still wary.

They still feared him.

With a curt nod, Vera urged her horse forward, and the group continued their journey toward the Drakhan mansion. The air felt heavier now, the undercurrent of fear among the townspeople lingering in the back of her mind. What had Draven done to earn their fear, even as he seemingly lifted them from ruin?

Arriving at the gates of the Drakhan mansion was like stepping into another world. The grand estate loomed before them, its architecture an imposing display of power and history. The vast stone walls were intricately carved with symbols and patterns, and the towering gates were wrought with dark iron, gleaming in the afternoon light.

Even Vera, who had seen her fair share of noble estates, couldn't help but feel a chill run down her spine as she took in the sheer magnitude of the place.

"This is… impressive," Modric muttered, his voice low as he surveyed the estate.

"It's more than that," Vera replied quietly. "This place has stood for centuries. The Drakhan family has always been a powerful one, and their influence runs deeper than most realize. This mansion… it's a reflection of that."

The royal knights behind them exchanged uneasy glances, their hands instinctively drifting toward the hilts of their swords. The weight of the Drakhan name seemed to hang over them like a shadow, and the sight of the mansion only served to reinforce that sense of foreboding.

But it wasn't just the mansion that had them on edge.

Standing before the gates, waiting in perfect formation, were one hundred Drakhan knights. Clad in dark armor that gleamed in the sunlight, their faces were obscured by their visors, giving them an almost inhuman appearance. The Drakhan knights were infamous throughout the kingdom for their ruthlessness, efficiency, and sheer strength.

Stories of their exploits had spread far and wide, tales of how they had crushed rebellions, eliminated threats with cold precision, and protected the Drakhan family's interests at any cost.

Now, those very knights stood before Vera and Modric, their presence a silent reminder of the power that lay within the Drakhan name.

The royal knights shifted nervously in their saddles, their hands gripping their weapons a little tighter. Cold sweat ran down a few faces, and even the most seasoned among them felt a gnawing sense of unease.

Vera kept her expression neutral, though she could feel the tension building in the air. Her eyes scanned the line of Drakhan knights, noting their rigid posture, their disciplined formation. There was no doubt in her mind that they were ready for battle at a moment's notice.

The head of the Drakhan knights, a tall figure with a commanding presence, stepped forward. His voice boomed as he addressed them, his tone carrying the weight of authority.

"State your names and your business!" he demanded, his gaze unwavering.

Vera straightened in her saddle, meeting his gaze with equal intensity. "I am Vera, leader of the Crown Cavaliers," she said, her voice strong and steady. "This is Modric, my second-in-command, and we come under direct orders from Her Majesty, the Queen."

There was a pause as the head knight studied her, his eyes narrowing behind his visor. The tension in the air was palpable, the weight of the moment pressing down on everyone present.

Modric shifted slightly in his saddle, his hand brushing the hilt of his sword as he watched the Drakhan knights for any sign of movement. The royal knights behind them remained on edge, their eyes flicking nervously between the imposing figures before them.

The tension in the air was palpable, like the charged silence before a storm. Vera held her ground, her gaze steady as the captain of the Drakhan Knights stepped forward. His armor, polished to a mirror-like shine, reflected the golden rays of the sun, making him appear larger than life.

His presence was as imposing as the mansion behind him, and Vera could feel the weight of his authority before he even spoke.

"I am Garren Valthor Aegir Drakhan," the captain announced, his voice deep and resonant, echoing across the courtyard. "First Knight of the Drakhan Earldom, sworn protector of the Drakhan family, and servant to Lord Draven."

Vera's eyes narrowed slightly as she took in the man before her. Garren's voice held a certain weight, a strength that resonated through the ground beneath her feet. She had heard of him, of course—his reputation was as infamous as his lord's.

Stories of his ruthless efficiency in battle, his unwavering loyalty to Draven, and his unmatched skill with the sword had reached far beyond the borders of the Drakhan territory. He was a man who commanded respect, not through intimidation but through sheer presence.

Beside her, Modric shifted in his saddle, clearly aware of the power radiating from the captain. His eyes flicked toward Vera, seeking her signal, but she remained calm. The situation was delicate, and any wrong move could send them spiraling into conflict.

"We are here under the queen's orders," Vera said, her voice firm but measured. She wasn't about to be intimidated, not even by a man like Garren. "We require an audience with Lord Draven."