Leaving behind him a chamber brimming with exhilaration of a wish now conceded, Alpheo could almost feel the weight of the nobles' delight clinging to the air like perfume. Their sons, so long confined away from the diamond of Yarzat, with the heir inheriting the land, the spare kept in waiting, the third often shoved into the clergy, were soon to have a new path.
They were at last offered something else: a ladder into the heart of Yarzat's war machine.
It was not just glory they smelled. It was leverage. A second son might no longer be a burden, but a weapon sharpened for the family's ambition. A third or fourth might bring home laurels instead of prayers. And should one of them, by fortune or talent, rise all the way to the rank of legate, then their house would suddenly possess a voice not just in their province, but at the very core of the crown's strength.
