Harmonia Calendar 715, Thal 23 - Ashspire Estate, Elandor
Evening - Anton's Study
Lightstones flickered to life one by one, their glow spreading slowly across the study.
On the desk were two open letters. Their parchments set free.
One bore the seal of Baron Loubane, a father's fury wrapped in the guise of etiquette.
The other carried the tribunal's mark. News of the incident had already spread to the capital.
Anton reread each. Then he set the parchments down.
One was about justice, the other about trial.
The chair across from him creaked as Favian moved.
"Father."
Favian sat straight, his face calm. Red eyes clear, a smile on his lips.
He let the silence stretch, then spoke, his voice smooth and even.
"We can turn this to our advantage."
Anton's fingers drummed once on the desk before going still. His gaze lingered on the letters.
Then his eyes shifted to the wall map, its surface marked by pins and inked lines. Trade routes carved through years of patience, contracts created on fine negotiation between noble families. The thought of all his hard work, nights without sleep, being ruined by a boy's foolishness made him rage.
But he kept his cool. He listened, and he hated every second of it.
He wanted to say the idea was madness. He wanted to strike the boy for daring to say it aloud.
But he did not.
At last, his voice came, low.
"Speak."
***
Evening - Anton's Study
Favian sat across from me, posture straight, hands folded neatly on the desk. His red eyes held mine. He leaned forward slightly, voice soft, as though he wasn't presenting a scheme, but an already known truth.
"We prepare the maid. She plays the victim. The baron's daughter remembers our crest. We make that crest belong to Adonis."
I held a cup in my hand, though I did not drink. The wine didn't taste the same.
He continued, smooth as ever.
"We say the boy has been inappropriate with servants for months. The court likes a pattern."
My jaw tightened. My voice came sharp.
"Enough."
The silence stretched until I forced the words out.
"He is your brother."
I hated how weak it sounded.
Favian's lips curved, but the smile held no warmth. His tone never wavered.
"Gerard's son. Not yours."
The words landed.
Silence settled.
My gaze drifted down to the desk. I saw Gerard's hands, his perfect signature, his smile, the way people admired him. The way it all fell to me only after he died. Not won. Given. And I had paid for that gift every day.
Favian's voice pulled me back, calm, almost gentle.
"We weigh a house, not a boy. We have an heir. We signed contracts with a heir in place. We drilled knights and servants to that order. Break the line, and cracks run through every wall we've built."
He gestured lightly toward the map pinned to the wall, as though the inked trade lines were proving his point.
"Talent stirs the hall. Oaths hold it. The boy awakened early by luck, perhaps fate. But fate does not keep vassals in their place. It won't feed our citizens."
His words flowed.
"The heir stands in the doorway of every deal. Merchants come because the heir receives them. Guilds answer because the heir remains the heir. A baron calls for a head, and the hall watches to see if a house can keep its own."
My fingers drummed once on the desk, a habit when I'm in thought.
Favian paused to take a breath, then pressed on.
"Invest in what stands today. Not in a rumor of Gerard. Not in a bastard, no one knew last year. The people stand behind the heir who worked in full sight for years. They know that face. They have sworn to it."
His words cut sharper as he shifted the blade without moving.
"And him...keep him, and the servants gather at his back. The maids adore him. Gerard's old allies will watch. Nobles will whisper, 'What if Gerard had lived?' Every time he breathes, the lord of this house grows smaller in their eyes."
Favian leaned back slightly, letting the weight of his words settle before he spoke again.
"The baron demands a head. We give the hall a lesson instead. We take the culprit by the neck and walk him out ourselves. We speak of law. We speak of duty. We request mercy. Strip him. Send him far away. He lives. But the hall learns that House Ashspire stands behind justice."
He softened his tone.
"Blood stays in memory. Exile fades. Winter comes. The hall will forget a face they never knew."
He leaned forward, red eyes steady on mine.
"Time is thin. The baron demands. The tribunal will act. We do not have days to weigh right and wrong. We have hours to end it clean."
His gaze did not move, voice firm.
"We choose the house. We choose the heir. We end it clean."
The chamber was silent again. I wanted to speak. I wanted to call the plan madness. But I couldn't.
All I managed was a single nod.
***
Late Evening - Corridor
The corridor was silent, and the glow of lightstones stretched thin across the walls. I leaned into the wall's shadow and waited.
The steward left first, his footsteps fading down the hall until silence swallowed them. Then came the voices. Muffled, but sharp enough to cut through the door.
Favian's tone was low and smooth. Father's voice struck back, sharp and short. Between them, one name rang clear.
"Adonis."
My chest tightened as I murmured.
The knob clicked. I hid. The door opened, and Favian slipped out. His stride was light, and a satisfied smile curved his mouth. He didn't see me. He passed without pause.
That smile made my stomach turn.
I caught the door before it fully closed and stepped inside.
Father stood at the desk, one hand braced on its edge, the other holding a letter. His eyes didn't rise to meet mine.
I took a step forward, my voice even.
"What was that about?"
His hand brushed the letter. His tone came cold, dismissive.
"Family business."
My voice rose.
"Adonis is family."
At that, Father's jaw clenched. His eyes flicked up at me once, then dropped again to the letter. He set it down on the desk.
Soft. Final.
He didn't answer. He didn't need to. His silence said more than words.
I stood there, fists clenched, waiting for something more, but nothing came.
'Say something! Anything!'
The words built in my mind but never left it.
'There is nothing more to gain.'
I turned. My steps carried me back into the corridor. The door shut behind me, the sound echoing harder than I intended.
Thud.
'Something is going on. Adonis is in danger, I feel it.'
I walked before I knew the destination.
'If Father won't talk, then I need someone who will make him talk.'
My feet carried me down the corridor.
'Mother.'
***
Late Evening - Corridor
I had just left the banquet hall after overseeing the preparations for tomorrow. My steps carried me back toward our chamber. Then Lucien appeared down the corridor, walking fast, his face pale as he called for me.
"Mother."
My steps halted.
He came toward me, stopping close, his breath quick, voice urgent.
"They're planning something. I heard Adonis's name. I heard Favian. Father wouldn't tell me anything."
My breath caught at his words.
His voice pressed on, almost breaking, eyes locked to mine.
"Please. Find out what it is. Stop them."
I raised a hand to his cheek, skin warm beneath my touch, and my voice came firm.
"I will."
He nodded.
I retracted my hand and walked on. My steps carried me past the stairs, up to the third floor, through the long hall that led to our chamber. My hand paused on the doorknob. A single breath. Then I pushed it open.
Anton stood at the tall window. His shoulders broad, and his hands behind his back. He didn't turn as the door clicked shut.
My voice slipped out low.
"What happened?"
He didn't answer, didn't turn.
I took a step forward, the carpet soft beneath my feet, my voice a little higher.
"What are you doing to Adonis?"
His gaze stayed fixed on the glass, voice even.
"There is a matter in the family. It needs a name. Adonis will shoulder it. For the house."
'Lucien was right...'
My chest clenched. I forced my voice steady.
"A tax matter? A ledger? Something small?"
His silence told me more than a yes ever could. The words came louder than I meant.
"Why him?"
Anton's faint reflection looked at me, gaze steady.
"He's the best option."
I took another step, my hands trembling at my sides.
"He is a child. He trusts you."
Finally, his head turned, but not his body. His tone was sharp.
"I have done what I must. The boy will take the blame. That's final."
My throat tightened. My whole body shook under his gaze, but I forced the words out.
"If you do this...you will lose more than him. You will lose Lucien, Theodora, and me."
For a heartbeat, he was still. Then he turned fully, his red eyes fixed on mine.
"Then I will pay that cost."
I flinched at his gaze, my eyes fell, and my hands were trembling.
'Like always, I couldn't speak up before him.'
A long moment passed before I forced myself to look up again, my gaze lifting slowly to meet his.
I looked at him, the man I had married, and saw nothing of the boy I had once imagined him to be. I saw the tool I had become. I saw the girl I had been raised to nod, smile, and endure.
I hated it.
I turned before my voice broke, and left before I said something I could not take back.