Morning at Ravenshade carried a different flavor now, like the château itself had learned how to breathe again. ☀️
Sunlight slipped through Kael's tall window in gentle streams, painting gold across the wooden floor. Dust motes floated lazily in the air, drifting like tiny, silent dancers in the quiet room.
But the bed was empty.
Down the corridor, the stillness did not last.
Soft laughter echoed from the staircase, then louder voices from below, warm and unguarded. The kind of sound that had once been rare in these halls now moved freely, bouncing off the high ceilings and polished walls.
In the grand dining hall, morning had fully arrived. 🍽️
Rowan sat at the head of the table, trying and failing to hide his smile behind a cup of tea. Zara was already mid story, hands moving dramatically as she spoke. Across from her, Kael listened with quiet amusement, a faint curve on his lips that had become more common these days.
Steward Mercer stood nearby with dignified patience, though even he could not completely suppress the soft expression in his eyes. Servants moved in and out with trays of fresh bread, fruit, and steaming dishes, their steps lighter than before.
The table was lively.
Not formal. Not silent.
Alive.
For the first time in years, Ravenshade Château did not feel like a place waiting for something it had lost.
It felt like a home that had found its missing heartbeat again. 🏡
The laughter thinned as Rowan set his cup down with a quiet click against the saucer.
He did not raise his voice. He did not need to.
"Kael," he began, folding his hands on the table, his tone calm but firm, "you're well enough now. You're walking, reading, going out on your own."
Kael looked up, already sensing where this was going.
Rowan continued, steady as ever. "You've reached the right age. People your age are already working, taking responsibility, building their futures. You cannot remain a spectator forever."
Zara's smile faded slightly, though she stayed silent.
"The Ravenshade business will not run itself," Rowan said. "Trade, ports, agreements, logistics… this family's foundation rests on it. One day, it will be yours to carry."
His gaze sharpened, not unkind, but heavy with expectation.
"You've had time to recover. Now it's time to move forward. Join the business. Learn it properly. Start taking responsibility."
The warmth of breakfast did not vanish, but it shifted, like sunlight briefly passing behind a cloud.
Rowan was not scolding.
He was reminding.
And in his words was not pressure alone, but the weight of legacy waiting to be handed over.
Rowan did not speak immediately after his first words. He looked down at his hands for a moment, as if deciding whether to say what came next.
Then he exhaled slowly.
"There is another reason," he said, voice quieter now. "I have grown older than I like to admit."
Kael's expression shifted.
"The ports are not simple places," Rowan continued. "They are loud, demanding, filled with negotiations, disputes, constant supervision. I used to handle all of it myself. Now…" He paused, fingers tightening slightly around his cup. "Some days I forget small things. Names. Appointments. Where I placed documents."
The room grew still.
"It is becoming difficult for me to go there every day," Rowan said plainly. "To oversee the workers. To carry every responsibility alone."
Kael straightened in his seat.
"I need you there," Rowan said, meeting his son's eyes directly. "Not just as help. As the one who will learn everything properly… and eventually take control of the ports and the Ravenshade business."
The weight of the words settled like stone.
But Rowan was not finished.
"And once you are steady in that role," he added, voice gentler but firm with certainty, "I would like to see you married."
Zara nearly choked on her drink.
"One or two years from now would be a proper age," Rowan went on, completely serious. "I want to see your children as well. The next heir of the Ravenshade company. Someone to carry the name after you."
Kael blinked.
For a moment, the conversation about trade and responsibility felt easier than this.
Zara slowly turned toward him, eyes sparkling with mischief she made no effort to hide.
"Ohooo," she hummed, leaning her chin into her palm. "Big brother getting married soon?"
Kael gave her a flat look.
She ignored it.
"I wonder who the lucky girl will be," she continued dramatically. "Should we start lining up candidates now? Maybe someone from the academy? Or should we announce auditions?" 😏
"Zara," Kael warned quietly.
She grinned wider. "Ummm… Kael getting married… I can already imagine you trying to act serious as a husband."
Kael covered his face briefly with one hand. "I just woke up from a seven-year coma. Can I at least return to life before you plan my entire future?"
Zara laughed, the tension breaking like thin ice.
Rowan did not laugh, but a faint smile touched his lips as he watched them.
The future he spoke of was heavy.
But in this moment, at the breakfast table filled with sunlight and teasing voices, it almost felt… possible.
Chairs scraped softly against the polished floor as breakfast came to an end. Plates were cleared, teacups emptied, and the warm noise of the meal slowly dissolved into the quieter rhythm of the morning.
Rowan did not rise immediately.
"Kael," he said, folding his hands over the table.
Kael looked up.
"It would be best if you start today."
Zara, halfway to standing, froze mid motion. "Today?"
Rowan nodded once. "The sooner you step into the work, the easier it will be to understand it. Watching from a distance teaches nothing. Being there does."
He turned his full attention to Kael.
"You don't have to carry everything at once. You will observe first. Learn how the ports function. How shipments are logged. How negotiations are handled. How problems appear and how they are solved."
His voice remained calm, but there was quiet urgency beneath it.
"If you begin now, in a year you will not feel lost. In two, you will be ready to lead without hesitation."
The morning sunlight stretched across the long dining table, catching the silverware in pale reflections.
"This is not pressure," Rowan added. "This is preparation. The Ravenshade name stands on the ports. One day, it will stand on your decisions."
Zara looked between them, her teasing mood gone, replaced by curiosity.
Kael sat still for a moment, absorbing the weight of the request. His life had only just begun moving again, and already the world was placing responsibilities back into his hands.
But unlike before, this time he did not feel like a bystander.
He gave a small, steady nod.
"Alright," he said. "I'll go today."
Rowan's shoulders eased, just slightly. "Good. I will inform the port office that you are coming."
Zara grinned again, unable to resist one last comment. "From coma patient to business heir in one week. Speedrun of life."
Kael gave her a dry look. "You're enjoying this too much."
"Obviously," she replied.
Outside, the morning carried on as usual.
Inside the Ravenshade Château, however, a quiet shift had just taken place.
Kael was no longer just returning to the world.
He was stepping into his place within it.
Kael rose from his chair without another word.
The decision had settled in him, quiet and firm.
He walked back to his room, the corridor calmer now, the morning laughter replaced by the soft sounds of servants at work. Sunlight stretched across the floor in long golden shapes as he entered his chamber.
From the stand near the door, he took his coat and slipped it on, smoothing the sleeves with absent precision. For a moment, he stood still, eyes drifting to the window where the world beyond the château walls waited.
Then he turned and left.
Down the staircase. Across the main hall. Through the tall front doors.
Outside, the air was crisp and cool. The car already stood ready near the entrance, polished black surface reflecting the pale sky. The old driver stepped forward and opened the rear door for him without needing to be asked.
Kael took his seat.
"Ports," he said simply.
The driver nodded, closing the door gently before walking around to the front. Moments later, the engine hummed to life, low and steady.
The iron gates of Ravenshade Château opened slowly, as they had countless times before for business, for duty, for responsibility.
The car rolled forward, leaving the quiet estate behind.
This time, Kael was not going out to observe the world.
He was going to begin carrying part of it. 🚗
The scent of salt and iron greeted him before the car even stopped.
As they entered the port district, the world changed.
Gone were the quiet stone streets of noble estates. Here, everything moved. Cranes groaned as they lifted massive cargo nets from the decks of towering ships. Ropes strained. Wooden planks thudded under the weight of crates. Men shouted instructions over the crash of waves against the docks. ⚓📦
Huge vessels stood anchored like floating fortresses, their hulls marked with symbols from distant nations. Some were being loaded with metal ingots and sealed containers, others unloading spices, machinery parts, and heavy barrels whose contents only the ledgers truly knew.
Workers in rough coats and gloves moved with purpose, sweat and sea mist blending on their skin. The port was loud, alive, and relentless.
Kael watched it all through the car window, silent.
This… was the true heart of the Ravenshade fortune.
The car rolled past stacked cargo yards and rail lines that connected directly to the docks, then slowed near a broad paved clearing.
Ahead stood a four storey building of stone and reinforced steel, its windows tall and evenly spaced. It was not overly decorative, but its presence carried weight, like a man who did not need to raise his voice to be heard.
Beside the entrance wall, polished to a mirror shine, a golden nameplate caught the morning sun.
Ravenshade & Co.
The letters gleamed proudly, reflecting the movement of the port in distorted flashes of light. 🏢✨
The car came to a stop.
For a brief second, Kael remained seated, eyes fixed on the name.
This was not just a company.
It was his family's legacy. Generations of trade, risk, ambition, and power carved into metal and stone.
The driver stepped out and opened the door.
Kael placed one foot on the ground, the noise of the harbor rushing around him like a wave.
Without hesitation, he stepped fully out of the car and faced the building.
Today, he was not a recovering patient.
He was a Ravenshade heir entering his domain.
The moment Kael stepped inside, the noise of the harbor dulled, replaced by the steady rhythm of organized work.
Clerks moved between desks carrying ledgers thick as bricks. The air smelled of ink, paper, and faint sea salt carried in on coats. Large wall maps marked shipping routes in red and black lines, threads connecting continents across parchment. 📜🌍
At the front desk, a neatly dressed receptionist looked up.
"Good morning, sir."
"Good morning," Kael replied calmly. "Where is my father's office?"
"Fourth floor, end of the corridor to the left," she said with a respectful nod.
"Thank you."
He moved toward the staircase instead of the lift, his steps measured against the stone stairs. Voices echoed softly through the stairwell, mixed with the distant clatter of typewriters and the turning of heavy pages.
Halfway up the second flight, he saw someone descending.
A tall man. Nearly Kael's height. Broad shouldered, posture straight with quiet authority. His hair was the same deep red as Rowan's, unmistakable even under the indoor lighting.
For a brief second, Kael slowed.
The resemblance was too strong to be coincidence.
The man noticed him as well. His gaze paused, sharp and assessing, as if trying to place a face from an old photograph.
Two generations of Ravenshade blood stood on the same staircase, separated by a few silent steps and a history not yet spoken.
The man descending the staircase stopped when his eyes settled fully on Kael.
Up close, the resemblance to Rowan was undeniable, yet sharper somehow. His jaw was more defined, his gaze harder, like a blade that had seen use. The same deep red Ravenshade hair, now streaked slightly with silver near the temples, was combed straight back. His suit was immaculate, dark and severe, the kind worn by someone who valued control over comfort.
Kael knew that face.
Not from memory.
From portraits.
From quiet mentions that ended quickly.
Vance Ravenshade.
Rowan's younger brother.
The forgotten pillar of the Ravenshade name.