Lígia set down her cup and stayed silent for a few moments, still savoring the flavor of the emotions she'd sensed in Eliron Verdanel's voice. Apprehension, caution, fear — why? There was something wrong in that polished calm.
But...
She sighed and shrugged inwardly.
'I'll think about that later. Right now, breakfast.'
The table before her was an imperial masterpiece of delights: enchanted fruits that never browned, breads warmed by thermal runes, cheeses infused with mana, and jams that shimmered like liquid jewels.
Her stomach, still in silent protest after the brutal training with Lady Asvalira, groaned.
'To hell with palace intrigue.'
She grabbed a slice of buttered bread and bit into it without ceremony, followed by a generous spoonful of crimson-petal jam. The taste burst on her tongue like a sweet spell.
The heirs, seeing that utterly human gesture, exchanged discreet glances.
Then, one by one, they began to eat as well. Slowly. Measured. But they ate.
Silence hung heavy over the table, comfortable only for the stomachs. Until—
"Verdanel" Prince Caelion said, his voice cutting through the air like a sheathed blade "Why does House Verdanel still refuse to adjust the prices of the Arquividas? With the increase in enrollment at the Academy of Life, shouldn't abundance mean... revision?"
Cutlery froze for a moment. Eyes turned to Eliron.
But it was Neran who spoke first, with a smile so soft it seemed innocent — and as sharp as a ceremonial dagger.
"Some would rather watch the Empire decay than lose profit. Old trees, deep roots" he said, picking up a slice of fruit with calculated precision.
Eliron sighed dramatically, like someone carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders
"Arquividas need to be paid too, right? Training, arcane materials, constant risk... we're not a charity house under vows of sacrifice"
"Curious" said Elira, without lifting her eyes from her plate "Because there are rumors that the salaries of Arquividas and Life Guardians have been reduced. Significantly"
The silence that followed was thick as winter honey.
Eliron, still smiling, faltered. Only for a millisecond. A microscopic slip. Almost imperceptible.
But Lígia… noticed.
She wasn't listening to the conversation — she was focused on a spiced cake and trying to decide if the tea really paired well with blueberry syrup.
But something inside her — instinct, blood — caught the microexpression. The tension in the muscles. The subtle drop in Eliron's heartbeat rhythm.
She glanced at him, eyes narrowing slightly as she sliced another piece of cake.
'You're hiding more than your House lets on.'
Eliron had already recovered. The smile returned to his face like a well-folded cloak.
"That's a charming accusation, Your Highness" he said lightly "But I'm afraid it's incorrect. Perhaps... fabricated"
Elira smiled back. One of those smiles that never touched the eyes
"Sure. Fabricated like dusty mirrors"
Lígia said nothing. With her senses honed by the domain, she already knew:
That would break. Sooner or later.
The gentle clinking of cutlery and cups resumed for a moment, as if the earlier tension had been nothing but a smudge on the fine porcelain of an imperial breakfast. But the prince wasn't finished.
Caelion raised his cup with elegance, observing the golden transparency of the aromatic tea. His eyes never left Eliron's.
"I imagine it must be a difficult pressure" he said, voice as soft as silk stitched with blades "to uphold the pillars of House Verdanel while the Empire demands... renewal"
Eliron still smiled
"Renewal is important, Your Highness. But not at the cost of stability. Too much zeal sometimes breaks the bridge before it's crossed"
"But when the bridge leads only to the pockets of its builder" Caelion continued, with the same calm "the purpose of the crossing is lost. Arquividas are guardians of life. And life is becoming increasingly... expensive"
Eliron smiled a little more. A mischievous gleam flickered in his eyes — but the line of his jaw had grown slightly more tense
"I believe it's natural for cycles of abundance to attract speculation. But let's not mistake success for exploitation, Your Highness"
"Of course" Caelion replied, tilting his head with mathematical gentleness "But I believe the numbers speak. A 470% increase in enrollment, and yet... access to Arquividas remains reserved for the deepest pockets"
Before Eliron could respond, Neran spoke, in the lazy tone of someone who throws logs onto a fire just to see the color of the smoke
"Some Houses build sanctuaries. Others build toll gates"
Eliron slowly turned his gaze to him
"And some prefer forging swords over bridges. That doesn't make them fairer, only... louder"
Neran smiled with teeth, but his eyes were cold
"Steel, at least, keeps its promises. An Arquivida... depends on whether the right fee was paid last quarter"
Elira set down her utensils and rested her chin on her interlaced fingers, visibly entertained.
Lígia, beside her, kept eating as if watching a theater play — her spoon moved slowly across her plate while her eyes remained on Eliron.
And Caelion did not yield.
"Lord Verdanel" the prince said with precision "your House holds exclusive concessions regarding the Arquividas. Given the current state of things, the Council may suggest... redistribution of certain duties"
A threat? No.
A reminder.
Eliron placed his cup on the table with studied lightness
"Your Highness is ever observant"
"It is my duty" Caelion replied without blinking "And it will be yours as well, if you hope to retain certain honors"
The air shifted.
Cold and courteous.
Like two blades touching beneath a linen tablecloth.
Lígia bit another piece of cake and thought, unhurried
'Well... at least the tea is good'
Eliron, still wearing his controlled smile, turned to Lígia with the subtlety of someone who decides, strategically, to change the focus of the audience.
"Lady Lígia" he said, his voice melodic "facing so many administrative challenges and... expectations upon the Houses, I wonder—"
Everyone at the table turned their eyes to her.
"—would House d'Argêntea be willing to collaborate more actively with the Empire?"
Lígia, who was just about to place a perfectly sliced strawberry into her mouth, froze for a second.
Her gaze swept across the table as if to confirm that no one else had been dragged with her onto this impromptu stage.
No.
It was her.
The chess piece summoned to the center of the board.
She bit the strawberry with impeccable grace.
Chewed slowly.
Took a sip of tea.
And only then, with a napkin in hand, wiped her mouth and raised her crystal gaze toward Eliron.
"Forgive the directness, young Verdanel" she said, her voice soft but sharp as polished silver "but is that a question made in the name of House Verdanel… or just a comment from a concerned passerby regarding the Empire's direction?"
Eliron blinked.
The smile remained, but his eyes hesitated for a moment too brief to be noticed by ordinary eyes.
But not by Lígia's.
"I speak as someone who observes the situation and worries for our shared future" he answered, after that brief pause "As an imperial citizen, not as an emissary"
Lígia regarded him with a serene air, but the light in her eyes had shifted. A glint of someone who had just pinned a nail into a well-painted wall of lies.
"I see" she replied lightly, resting the napkin on the table "In that case..."
She straightened in her chair
"House d'Argêntea was, is, and will always be the Empire's shield. But never mistake a shield for a treasury. Our duty is to hold the walls, not to fund the foundations of those who charge for the sacred"
A dense silence followed.
Neran Ferrosin let out a low sound. Something between approval and contained amusement.
Elira hid her smile behind her cup.
And Eliron… raised his glass slightly, as if acknowledging a check on the board.
"Well answered, Lady d'Argêntea" he murmured "Direct as always"
Lígia bit into the next strawberry with a calm gleam in her eyes
'Sometimes, the sweetest fruit… grows from the thorniest tree'