The corridor leading to the patriarch's study was quiet—eerily so. Not the kind of silence that came with peace, but one that hinted at whispered arguments behind shut doors and servants trained too well not to speak. Aden's boots tapped against polished stone as he walked beside a silent escort, Egmund just a step behind him.
Egmund whistled under his breath, taking in the grandeur. "Feels like someone vacuumed the soul out of this place. Creepy halls, stiff paintings, enough marble to build another capital. Bet this is where joy comes to die."
Aden didn't laugh, but his lips twitched.
They stopped outside a heavy oak door. The escort nodded once, opened it, and stepped aside.
Inside, Lord Calrus Joshua stood by the window. He didn't turn immediately, hands clasped behind his back, gaze locked on the garden beyond. He was older than Aden remembered—hair streaked with more silver, deep lines carving his face—but there was a sharpness in his bearing that made clear he hadn't lost his edge.
"Twelfth Seat," Calrus said, finally turning. "Or should I call you something more intimidating?"
Aden gave a small bow. "Just Aden is fine. Titles don't mean much when everyone's scared of you anyway."
Calrus gave a dry chuckle. "You sound like your grandfather. Lord Zwalter never cared for ceremony either. Claimed it got in the way of real business."
He gestured toward a pair of chairs near a low table. Aden sat, nodding his thanks. Egmund stood nearby, arms crossed and quietly observant.
"I'll speak plainly," Calrus said, settling into the opposite chair with a sigh. "You've shaken the Empire. And House Joshua... is no exception."
Aden tilted his head slightly. "Because of the marriage?"
Calrus nodded. "The Senate is split. Half of them want to double down—secure the engagement and strengthen our alliance with House Vasco while you're still... rising. The other half?" He paused. "They think you're too much of a gamble."
Aden's brow lifted. "A gamble?"
"You killed Lady Veris in front of the court," Calrus said bluntly. "Some call it justice. Others call it a declaration of war. The Senate is afraid that aligning with you paints a target on our backs. Or worse… that you drag us into a storm we can't control."
Aden leaned back, arms folded. "And what do you think?"
Calrus looked at him, long and hard. "I think the storm's already here. The only question is whether we try to outrun it… or teach it which way to blow."
Egmund let out a soft breath. "Damn, that's a line. Can I steal that for a book someday?"
Neither of the others acknowledged him.
"But i think different... ...If my daughter likes you then it's another story."
Calrus reached beneath the table and retrieved a small, ebony box. He opened it slowly and slid it across to Aden.
Inside sat a silver-blue brooch, shaped like a falcon encircling a rising sun. The metal shimmered faintly under the light—ancient, priceless.
"This is the Brooch of the First Flame," Calrus said. "It's been passed down from patriarch to patriarch since before the Senate even existed. It's not ceremonial. This—" he tapped the brooch, "—is authority."
Aden stared at it, silent. He could feel something in the artifact. Not magic, but history. Legacy. Weight.
"I'm still the patriarch," Calrus continued. "But if I fall, or if the Senate moves against my will, you show them this. It'll shut them up long enough for you to make your move."
Aden hesitated. "Are you expecting them to act?"
"Not today. Maybe not even next week." Calrus sighed. "But the way things are heading… they'll try to remove me. Quietly. Legally. They'll claim I've lost perspective, that the future of the House lies elsewhere. And when that happens, I need someone outside the system to remind them what Joshua loyalty really looks like."
Aden took the brooch, his thumb brushing against the smooth metal. It was cold.
"This isn't just a family matter," he thought. "It's a house ripping itself apart—and he's asking me to hold it together with blood and reputation."
"I don't need your protection, boy," Calrus added, as if reading his thoughts. "But I need your presence. Your name. You're the one thing they can't manipulate."
"Even if it doesn't seem like it... My legacy is reaching its endgame" Calrus spoke out with a faint sigh.
Egmund leaned closer, murmuring with a smirk, "This is getting wild. You came here for tea and marriage talk. Now you've got their family heirloom. Should I be calling you Lord Aden Joshua or what?"
Aden gave a faint smile, but his eyes stayed on the brooch. "I don't want to be part of your war, Lord Joshua."
Calrus nodded. "Then shape it from the outside. Just don't forget—when they come knocking, it won't be with offers. It'll be with knives."
The silence that followed was heavy.
Calrus spoke out for the last time. "You are a good son, Aden Vasco... ...that's why i trust my daughter to you."
Outside, storm clouds gathered on the horizon. The sky had turned the color of bruised iron. The light through the windows dimmed, casting long shadows across the floor.
As Aden stood to leave, he slipped the brooch into a hidden pocket in his coat.
It was not a gift.
Not a token of trust.
It was a plea disguised as power—handed off with dignity, but carried with dread.
And Aden, the boy who never asked for crowns,
Now held another County's lifeline in his hands.