Harmonia Calendar 715, Thal 23 - Ashspire City, Elandor
Late Afternoon - The Ballroom
The hall had thinned after the shouting.
Voices grew quieter, guards whispered at the doors, and the safe jokes were put away.
I sent Theodora and Adonis back to the estate with a guard.
They argued, but in the end, followed my order.
I stayed.
Someone had to.
But no one knew the truth.
'The guests said they heard a scream.'
'The servants said they saw a noble daughter unconscious.'
I pressed for answers, cornering two of the Loubane knights near the door.
Their armor bore the Loubane's crest, steel polished bright for show.
I demanded, voice firm.
"What happened?"
They bowed and gave me nothing.
"We're handling it, my Lord."
Their silence said enough.
They knew something, and they weren't sharing it.
There was nothing to gain anymore.
They wouldn't speak.
My thoughts drifted to another suspicious person.
Favian.
He had vanished earlier.
Too quick for a man who thrived on attention.
I walked toward the door with that thought in mind, Ashspire guards at my side.
The night air cut colder once I left the hall, boots echoing over the stone path back to the estate.
We passed the gate and entered the main building, where the guards peeled away.
My steps quickened through the halls. I cut straight into the north passage, toward Favian's room, when a door opened ahead.
Click.
There he was.
He stepped out of his room.
His face was calm. Too calm, but his eyes were sharp.
My chest tightened, and instinct took over.
I kept my steps silent and followed him, each footfall careful on the stone.
His pace was steady as he walked straight toward Father's study.
I stopped at the corner, close enough to see, far enough not to be seen.
The door opened, and he went inside.
Click.
The latch clicked shut.
***
Evening - Anton's Study
The steward left the guest lists stacked on the desk.
I counted them again when—
Knock.
Favian entered a moment later, posture straight, giving a small bow.
"Father."
I put the guest lists down and glanced up.
"Speak."
He began, his tone smooth and polished as always.
"There was a small incident at the party. It was a misunderstanding. Lady Matilda felt unwell. I tried to comfort her. She shouted. The guards made a fuss. The guests scattered."
My gaze didn't leave him as I asked firmly.
"What kind of misunderstanding?"
He drew a careful breath, eyes steady on mine.
"The kind that invites action. The baron will demand answers."
My patience thinned, and I gripped the armrest, voice rising.
"What answers?"
He slipped past the question.
"I spoke with her earlier. So did Adonis. People saw that. If the baron demands a name, we offer his."
I blinked once, slowly, to check I'd heard correctly.
My jaw tightened as I spoke.
"You bring me rumors, dodge my questions, and dare suggest I throw my own family to the wolves?"
His brow lifted, tone confused.
"Family? He isn't even your son?"
Silence settled between us.
Heavy.
I closed my eyes for a moment, thumb rubbing the bridge of my nose.
The ache in my head grew.
'This child will be my ruin. He creates problems, speaks in circles, and suggests betrayal. I warned him. I covered for him. Again and again.'
'This wasn't the first time... A maid dismissed in tears. A servant's daughter gone before dawn. Each time, I paid the price so he could keep his place.'
'And now he dares to go after a baron's daughter… and even suggests we throw Adonis in his place. Not this time. I gave him enough chances. Now he will take responsibility for it.'
I opened my eyes and leaned back in the chair, the leather creaking under me.
My voice cut sharp, final.
"You will go to the baron. Tonight. You will apologize for whatever 'misunderstanding' happened. You will make it vanish."
His voice stayed soft, but the defiance in it was obvious.
"That will not be enough."
I tapped the desk once, flat and final, before turning back to the parchments.
"It will be enough."
A knock came before he could answer.
"Enter."
Click.
The door opened.
A servant stepped inside, bowing low, two sealed letters in his hands.
"From Baron Loubane. And from the tribunal hall."
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Evening - Anton's Study
Lightstones flickered to life one by one, 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 read each again before setting 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, his lips curved.
He let the silence stretch, then spoke, his voice smooth.
"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 delicate negotiation between noble families.
The thought of all his hard work and 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."