“To me, the one who lacks manners is not the one who speaks freely, but the one who eavesdrops on conversations they were never invited into. Isn’t that right, mister Knight Commander?”
Reinhardt’s glare sharpened, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his sword, but before he could lash out, Thaddeus raised a hand.
“Enough.”
The single command, spoken without force yet carrying undeniable authority, anchored the moment in place. Reinhardt exhaled sharply through his nose, but he obeyed, stepping back.
Thaddeus’ golden eyes, steady and unreadable, remained on Lucavion.
“I trust Reinhardt,” he said, his voice even, absolute. “He is more than qualified.”
Lucavion’s smirk didn’t falter. If anything, it curled at the edges, something knowing gleaming behind his dark eyes.
“Then why not make it so that he was here from the start?” His tone was almost lazy, but there was an unmistakable sharpness beneath it. “After all, there’s always the chance that your daughter wasn’t even aware of his presence.”
Aeliana’s eyes flickered slightly, her fingers twitching at her sides.
Lucavion saw it.
His grin widened.
A beat of silence.
Then, smoothly, he continued, “Also, let’s not forget—I nearly lost my life here.” He gestured slightly with his uninjured arm, his coat still damp with blood, his breathing still slightly uneven. “Surely, the Duke—the mighty Pillar of the Empire—could have prevented it.”
Another pause.
And then, as if the thought had only just occurred to him, Lucavion tilted his head.
“Unless…” He let the word linger, rolling it across his tongue, his gaze flickering with something deliberate.
Thaddeus didn’t react, but Lucavion could feel it—the shift in the air, the weight of that silence pressing down like the stillness before a storm.
“Unless,” Lucavion mused, “this was a test.”
Aeliana’s breath hitched.
Reinhardt’s expression darkened.
Lucavion?
He smiled.
“That would be interesting, wouldn’t it?” He exhaled, feigning thoughtfulness. “The great Duke Thaddeus—watching from the sidelines, waiting to see if I’d survive or crumble.” His black eyes gleamed with undisguised amusement. “A bit cruel, perhaps, but I suppose I can’t be too offended.”
He let the words settle. Let them weave into the air.
Then, after a deliberate pause—
His smirk sharpened.
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“After all,” he mused, “I do love a good game.”
Thaddeus’ gaze was sharp, unwavering as he leveled his eyes at Lucavion. There was no immediate answer to the provocation, no verbal retaliation, only the weight of silence pressing down on the deck. It was an acknowledgment, in its own way, that the boy had struck something close to truth.
Aeliana, however, was quicker to act. She stepped toward Lucavion, her focus shifting entirely to his arm.
“Are you okay?”
Lucavion blinked at the question, as if mildly surprised by her concern. Then, with an easy shrug, he glanced at his injured limb, rolling his shoulder slightly as if to test its limitations. His smirk, though strained, never quite disappeared.
“It’s fine,” he said, voice light but edged with exhaustion. “As you’ve seen before, I’ve been injured way worse than this.”
Aeliana didn’t answer immediately. Her lips pressed into a thin line, her expression unreadable, though her fingers curled slightly at her sides. There was a flicker of something behind her eyes—something that Lucavion caught but did not comment on.
She exhaled, slow and controlled, before turning her glare toward her father.
Thaddeus let out a quiet sigh.
This young man…
The truth was, he could have prevented it. Reinhardt, for all his fury, was still his subordinate and obeyed his command without question. One word from him, and the sword would never have been swung in the first place. Yet he had chosen to watch, to observe. To see if this Lucavion was truly capable of standing his ground.
Still, Reinhardt had gone too far. That much was undeniable. The boy had nearly lost his life, and despite his arrogance, he was right about that.
Even so, that was not the part that unsettled Thaddeus the most.
It was the energy.
The flicker of something old beneath Lucavion’s mana. The way it surged, chaotic and restrained all at once, unstable yet unmistakable.
A memory stirred, unbidden.
A battlefield, long ago.
The scent of blood thick in the air, the sky darkened by the smoke of war.
And a man—a lone figure standing amid the corpses of countless soldiers, his presence a force of nature that none dared to stand against.
Thaddeus remembered that scene as clearly as if it had happened yesterday.
A legend.
A madman.
The one who had carved his name into history with nothing but blood and sheer, unrelenting will.
‘No way…’
His fingers curled slightly, a shadow passing through his thoughts.
There was no possible connection. That man had disappeared nearly twenty years ago, vanishing into obscurity as if he had never existed.
And yet, something about Lucavion’s energy, the way it crackled against the air, made Thaddeus remember.
He exhaled slowly, pushing the thought away.
No. It was just a coincidence. A mere resemblance, nothing more.
And yet, as he looked at Lucavion again, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this encounter was only the beginning.
Top of Form
Bottom of Form
Thaddeus exhaled, the weight of his thoughts settling, but not enough to keep him from acting. With a simple flick of his hand, he gestured toward one of the knights standing at attention nearby.
“Bring out Lirian,” he commanded, his voice carrying across the deck with ease.
The knight immediately saluted before turning on his heel and striding away.
Lirian was among the finest healers in the Duchy, a prodigy in restorative magic and battlefield medicine. Thaddeus had brought him along for this expedition precisely because he anticipated the need for quick and effective healing. And now, despite Lucavion’s bravado, the boy’s injuries needed attention. He would not have his daughter hovering over a half-broken man, nor would he allow someone who had been reckless enough to stand against Reinhardt remain wounded under his watch.
His gaze shifted.
Reinhardt stood firm, but Thaddeus could see it—the barely concealed frustration, the tension still coiled in his stance. Yet, more than that, there was the weight of realization in his expression. A subtle flicker, brief but telling.
He knew he had gone too far.
But that alone wasn’t enough.
Thaddeus’ golden eyes narrowed slightly, sharp and deliberate. No words were spoken, no reprimand voiced aloud, but the message was clear as day in the way he held his stare.
Repent.
Reinhardt stiffened.
Aeliana’s glare still burned at the edges of his vision, her expression cold and unforgiving. She had not spoken since tending to Lucavion, but her stance, her silence, was louder than words.
And Thaddeus knew that if he did not handle this properly, her anger would only deepen.
Reinhardt inhaled through his nose before, finally, his fingers loosened from the hilt of his sword. With a slow, steady movement, he turned toward Lucavion.
A pause.
Then—
“…I overstepped.”
His voice was level, but there was weight behind it.
Aeliana blinked, clearly not expecting him to acknowledge it so quickly.
Lucavion, however, merely chuckled, shifting slightly despite the pain laced in his movement. “You think?”
Reinhardt’s jaw tensed, but he held his composure. His pride would not allow him to bow outright, but his words, his acknowledgment, were already more than what most would have expected from the Knight Commander of the Duchy.
“Well….I did not expect much already….But….Good boy.”
“You!-“
“Calm down, Reinhardt.”
“Ahahaha…”