His huge laboratory

The six children stared, frozen, as the Baron's words hung in the air.

"Force 1."

The title was not a promise of honor or glory, but a cold, final judgment. A few silent moments passed before the Baron turned on his heel and strode towards the back of the room, where a metallic panel slid open to reveal a sleek, circular elevator.

"Follow me,"

he commanded, his voice echoing in the sudden silence.

Beatrice whimpered, clutching her arms to her chest, but Emmett, ever the pragmatist, was already moving, his feet making no sound on the polished floor. One by one, the other children followed, the cold steel doors of the elevator closing behind them with a low hiss.

The descent was quick and silent, a contrast to the grandeur of the manor above. The air grew colder, and a faint, sterile scent of antiseptic filled their noses.

When the doors finally opened, they were met with a sight that stole the breath from their lungs.

The space was a vast, sprawling laboratory, bright lights and polished chrome. It was humming with a low, constant energy. Scientists in crisp white coats moved with a quiet, efficient purpose, tending to holographic monitors and complex machinery. The entire floor was a monument to science and control, a world far advanced from the one they had known.

"Welcome,"

the Baron said, a proud grin on his face,

"to my state-of-the-art laboratory."

A panel in the lab wall slid open, and a woman in a stark, gray uniform stepped out with a data slate in her hands.

"Charolette,"

Calvin said without taking his eyes off the children.

"Document their biometrics and their personal information. Beginning with the boy who arrived with the girl."

Charolette nodded, her gaze sweeping over them. She gestured to a small pedestal.

"Please state your name and age, one at a time."

Emmett stepped forward first, his face a mask of cold indifference.

"Emmett Thorne,"

he said, his voice flat.

​Baron Calvin's eyes widened ever so slightly in surprise and a dark sort of intrigue.

Thorne? Impossible. Caspian's family were supposed to be dead. Are there other Thornes? Or... did one of them survive? He looks a lot like his father. The same cold eyes.

The moment was gone in an instant, a brief but potent flicker of emotion across his otherwise composed face.

"Eight,"

Emmett added, his deep gray eyes devoid of warmth.

Briar followed, her stance a defiant challenge. She spat the words out.

"Briar Hayes. I'm nine."

Charolette moved to the boy with the broad shoulders. He stood silent for a moment, his calm eyes meeting hers before he spoke.

"Rhys Fisher. Eleven."

Next was the boy with the cynical smirk. He approached the pedestal with a practiced grace, a flicker of boredom in his intelligent eyes.

"Corbin Finch. Ten."

The charming boy, Felix, went next. He gave her a nervous smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Felix Vance. I'm eight."

Finally, Beatrice stepped forward, trembling slightly. She stared at the floor, her voice barely a whisper.

"Beatrice Fontaine. Seven."

Corbin's eyes, sharp and calculating, narrowed almost imperceptibly as she spoke her last name. He had read every book in the grand archives; he knew that name. A royal name. This girl was not who she seemed.

Charolette's fingers flew across the screen, her expression unwavering. She gave the Baron a silent nod and disappeared back through the panel in the wall.

Baron Calvin watched the six children with a discerning eye.

"Your first assessment will measure your cognitive abilities,"

he announced, his voice carrying through the immense space.

"It will be a non-verbal test of logic and pattern recognition."

Charolette returned with six consoles which were to be used for the test, positioning each one before the six of them.

Emmett moved to his console with a cold, focused efficiency, his fingers flying across the virtual screen without a single wasted motion.

Briar sat down with a defiant slouch, her brow furrowed in frustration as she struggled with the intricate puzzles.

Corbin worked with a calm, serene expression, as if solving a simple crossword. Felix gnawed on his lip, his usual charm replaced by a nervous intensity, while Beatrice's hands trembled as she fumbled with the controls.

Rhys, as always, remained quiet and deliberate, his movements slow and certain.

After what felt like an eternity, the screens went black, and the results were instantly transmitted to a large main display in the center of the room. Baron Calvin's smirk widened as he read the numbers.

"The results are in,"

he said, the numbers appearing on the main screen for all to see.

Corbin Finch: 155

Emmett Thorne: 138

Rhys Fisher: 130

Briar Hayes: 105

Felix Vance: 101

Beatrice Fontaine: 99

Corbin's smirk deepened into one of triumphant superiority. Emmett's expression remained unchanged, as if the number had no bearing on him. Felix let out a silent sigh of relief, while Beatrice looked down at her feet in shame. Briar's fists clenched at her sides.

Baron Calvin's grin widened as his gaze lingered on Corbin's score.

"Impressive, Mr. Finch. A truly remarkable mind."

Corbin turned to the Baron, his voice was a low hum of curiosity.

"These consoles, Baron... they look too advanced for the kingdom's development. How did you acquire them?"

Calvin let out a soft, knowing chuckle. He gestured to the vast laboratory around them.

"Acquired them? My dear boy, this is my laboratory. Everything you see here—these consoles, the machinery, all of it—was manufactured in my workshops."

He began to walk, expecting the children to follow.

"Come. The next tests will require a change of scenery."

As they moved toward a different section of the lab, Corbin continued his line of questioning.

"But how? The most the kingdom can boast of are automobiles and airships?"

Calvin looked over his shoulder, his eyes glinting with a cold cunning.

"Precisely. The lack of development is our greatest asset. The other five barons—four now, considering Caspian's... unfortunate demise—and I, we monopolize this. We introduce a few select machineries, which we can then sell at an incredibly high profit."

He stopped and turned to face them, his voice dropping to a serious tone.

"If a word of this slips, if you tell anyone, I will kill you. And then I will kill the person you told."

The threat hung in the air, a chilling statement of absolute power. Felix's hands trembled, and Beatrice bit her lip to keep from crying. Even Briar looked at the floor, the gravity of his words sinking in.

All except for Emmett. He remained unfazed, his deep gray eyes devoid of any emotion.

Calvin's smug smirk returned, directed solely at Emmett.

"And you, Mr. Thorne. Do you not fear a threat of death?"

Emmett met his gaze without flinching.

"No,"

he said, his voice flat and empty.

"I've got nothing to lose. My parents and my brother are dead."

Upon hearing Emmett's words, a flicker of dark triumph crossed Calvin's face. He remembered the blood on his hands. He said nothing, simply turning away to lead the children deeper into the of his huge laboratory.

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