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His father's expression shifted subtly—a slight narrowing of the eyes, a barely perceptible straightening of his posture. He recognized the shift in conversation, the careful positioning.
"Go on."
Dante set his teacup aside, leaning forward. "I'm seventeen now. More than old enough to begin building my own power base."
"You're referring to a peerage."
"Yes."
The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken considerations. Alexius had been reluctant to discuss this topic, always finding reasons to delay. Too young, he'd say. Not experienced enough. The political climate wasn't right.
"You've shown considerable progress in your training," he said finally. "Your shadow manipulation has advanced beyond what I expected at your age."
"But?" Dante prompted, hearing the unspoken qualification.
"But a peerage is not merely a collection of chess pieces, Dante. It's a responsibility. A commitment to those under your protection and guidance."
"I understand that."
"Do you?" Alexius's voice sharpened. "Once the bond is formed, it cannot be broken without significant consequences. The ones you choose will be tied to you, their fates intertwined with yours."
Dante met his gaze directly. "I'm not asking for toys, Father. I'm asking for the tools to build our family's future."
Something in his words seemed to catch Alexius off guard. He studied his son with renewed attention, as if seeing something unexpected.
"What kind of peerage do you envision?" he asked, his tone more curious than challenging now.
"One without restrictions." Dante held his gaze. "I need freedom to select members based on potential, not current status or conventional expectations."
Alexius's eyebrows rose slightly. "You have specific candidates in mind already."
It wasn't a question.
"Perhaps." Dante smiled thinly. "But I'd prefer to keep my options open."
Alexius leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming against the armrest as he considered. The shadows in the corner of the room seemed to deepen, responding to his contemplation.
"Your timing is interesting," he said finally. "Ajuka Beelzebub has recently refined the Evil Piece system a few years ago. The new sets are said to be more adaptive to potential rather than current power levels."
Dante's pulse quickened. This was more than he'd expected—not just permission, but information he could use. "When will they be available?"
"They've been distributed to eligible young devils already. I could arrange for a set to be allocated to you." Alexius's eyes locked with his son's. "If you're certain you're ready."
"I am."
"Then I have conditions." He raised one finger. "First, you will maintain your studies and training. A peerage is an addition to your responsibilities, not a replacement for them."
"Agreed."
"And second..." His expression turned serious. "Whatever your plans, Dante, remember that everything you do now reflects on House Valac. We cannot afford missteps."
The weight of family expectation hung heavy in his words. For all his rigid formality, Alexius carried the burden of their declining house on his shoulders. Every decision, every alliance, every political move calculated to restore what had been lost.
"I understand." Dante met his gaze steadily. "I won't disappoint you."
Something flashed across Alexius's face—an emotion Dante couldn't quite identify. Pride? Concern? Perhaps both.
"Very well." He nodded once, decision made. "I'll begin the arrangements tomorrow. The Evil Pieces should be yours within the week."
"Thank you, Father." Dante kept his voice measured, hiding the depth of his excitement.
Alexius waved a dismissive hand. "You've earned this opportunity. Now you must prove you deserve it."
The conversation shifted to administrative details—the formal registration process, the legal responsibilities, the potential political implications. Throughout, Dante maintained the appropriate level of attentiveness, asking relevant questions and accepting his father's advice with apparent gratitude.
The pieces were falling into place faster than he'd anticipated. The Astaroth connection. His own peerage. The freedom to begin building power on his terms.
As their discussion concluded, Alexius stood, signaling the end of their meeting. Dante rose as well, preparing to take his leave.
"Dante," his father said as he reached the door. "Your mother believes there's more to you than you reveal to the world." A slight smile touched his lips. "I'm beginning to think she's right."
Dante paused, unsure how to respond to this unexpected observation. "Mother always was perceptive."
"Indeed." Alexius's eyes held his for a moment longer. "Good night, son."
"Good night, Father."
Dante closed the door behind him, exhaling slowly as he stepped into the hallway. That had gone better than expected. Much better.
Ariel waited at the end of the corridor, her posture perfect as always. She fell into step beside him as he headed toward his wing of the mansion.
"Success?" she asked quietly.
"Beyond expectations." He couldn't keep the satisfaction from his voice. "I'll have my Evil Pieces within the week."
Her eyes widened fractionally—the closest she came to visible surprise. "Congratulations, Young Master."
"Things are accelerating, Ariel." He glanced at her as they walked. "Are you ready?"
"Always." No hesitation, no uncertainty. Just absolute loyalty.
They reached his chambers, where she paused at the threshold as he entered. The familiar space welcomed him—bookshelves crammed with texts, a large desk covered in notes and diagrams, comfortable furniture arranged for both study and relaxation.
"Will you need anything else tonight?" she asked from the doorway.
He turned to face her, allowing a genuine smile. "No. Get some rest. We have planning to do tomorrow."
She bowed slightly, her long hair falling forward like a curtain of midnight. "As you wish. Good night, Dante."
"Good night, Ariel."
As the door closed behind her, Dante moved to his desk, pulling out a small key from his pocket. The bottom drawer unlocked with a soft click, revealing a leather-bound journal—his private notes, written in a code of his own devising.
He opened it to a fresh page, picking up a pen.
Phase One secured. Evil Pieces incoming. Astaroth connection progressing faster than anticipated.
He paused, tapping the pen against the paper.
Time to begin the real game.