He was fully aware the news had traveled ahead of him, that his wife would not accept this decision quietly.
"What is the meaning of this, Kaelith!" his mother barked, unable to hold back the tears in her eyes.
"I did what had to be done, Freya. I can't go back on my words. The deed has already been done."
Ralph was deeply irritated by that single line. It wasn't enough that his father had just cast him out of the clan and disowned him in front of everyone, now he was trying to justify it with empty words about sect responsibilities. It felt like salt on an open wound.
Rather than admit his own mistake or take accountability for the harshness of his actions, he chose to mask it behind the pretense of duty and obligation, as if that would somehow make the betrayal easier to bear.
Ralph couldn't bring himself to stand there any longer. Without waiting to hear another excuse, he turned and used the growing commotion as cover, slipping quietly back toward his quarters.
He didn't want to leave, every part of him screamed against it, but he knew he had no choice. He needed to gather his things and prepare to leave immediately, no matter how much it tore at him.
He made his way to his room in silence, carefully avoiding everyone he came across, even the guards. He didn't want to speak to anyone, didn't want to be seen.
All he wanted was to be alone, if only for a moment. Alone with his thoughts, with the pain he couldn't show, with the storm of emotions churning beneath the surface.
He knew that in just a few minutes, he'd be standing outside the gates of his own clan, no longer a part of the family he'd grown up in, no longer protected by the name that once gave him purpose.
He'd have no one but himself to rely on now. The thought clawed at his chest, sharp and relentless, digging in deeper with every breath.
He got into his room and sat heavily on the edge of his bed, elbows resting against his knees, his fingers brushing away the streaks of tears that had started to force their way down his face.
"Come on, you're stronger than this!"
He couldn't let the weight of the decision break him. He was once the heir to the strongest household in the region. He had carried a name that struck fear and reverence in equal measure.
He couldn't afford to let sentimentality show, not even in private, and certainly not in front of the one who had cast him out like a stranger.
With a deep breath, he pushed himself up from the bed and crossed the room with slow, measured steps. He entered the adjoining chamber, the one he rarely ever used, where, tucked away and gathering dust, were the travel bags he had never imagined he'd need.
He pulled one of them out, let it drop onto the bed with a dull thud, and stared at it for a moment before unzipping it. Then, with steady hands, he began to pack. Only what was necessary.
Clothes, a blade, a weathered map, some coin, a few essentials. There was no room for sentiment now.
No reason to carry trinkets of the life he was being forced to leave behind. Anything more would only become a burden on the long road ahead.
He packed everything he thought he might need into the worn leather bag, checking twice to make sure nothing important was left behind. With a quiet breath, he slung it over his shoulder and walked to the door, pausing when he reached it.
Through the narrow window, the setting sun cast long streaks of amber and gold across the floor, painting the room in a final moment of calm. He stood there for a heartbeat longer, watching the fading light, before finally stepping out and closing the door behind him.
As he entered the middle chamber, his footsteps slowed. Everyone was already there, his siblings, all three of them, standing a little apart but visibly tense. His father and mother stood at the front, silent and unreadable.
Beyond them, through the open threshold, he could see the rest of the clan gathered outside. The air felt heavy with expectation.
Some members stared at him with open scorn, their expressions hard and cold, while others looked on with conflicted eyes, quietly wishing his father would change his mind. But it was too late for that now.
His mom walked up to him with a sad expression written all over her face. It was obvious she couldn't bear to see her son leave.
"I'm sorry..." she whispered, bowing her head down slightly as tear streaks fell onto the wooden floor.
A maid stepped out of the room, her movements careful and deliberate. In her hands, she carried a bundle wrapped in fine cloth, silken and pale, catching the last slant of sunlight.
Whatever was hidden beneath it was small but clearly important, the way she held it close to her chest, almost reverently. He squinted, trying to make out the shape beneath the folds, but the fabric concealed it too well.
"Ma'am," the maid called out, drawing her attention and every other person in the room.
She turned just in time to see the maid approaching, the bundled object held delicately in both hands. It was the item she had quietly requested earlier, before Ralph had even begun packing.
Without a word, she stepped forward and took it from the maid with careful fingers, her touch gentle, almost ceremonial.
Then she turned to face Ralph, her expression unreadable, the wrapped object resting against her palms as though it carried more weight than its size suggested.
"This is our family's heirloom... I had wanted to give it to you the proper way when you one day became the leader of the head house.
"But it seems like that wouldn't happen..."
She pulled off the cloth, and beneath it sat a pendant. It was an old pendant, strung on a worn leather cord, the kind that would fray if tugged too hard.
The charm itself was strange, somewhere between wood and amber, oval-shaped, dulled with age, and etched faintly with symbols that looked more like scratches than anything meaningful.
"I want you to take this with you. Let it guide you, as I won't be there to do so myself." She stepped back, letting her tears flow slowly down her cheeks.
Ralph let out his tears as well. He could no longer hold it back after seeing his mother's tears.
"Thank you, Mom. I will protect it with my life."
He turned to his siblings, but all of them remained at a distance. Not one of them stepped forward, not even a flicker of concern or hesitation crossed their faces.
They simply watched in silence, their expressions unreadable, but he didn't care. Let them have their chance, now the path to the throne was wide open for them.
He didn't spare a glance at his father either. Without a word or pause, he turned away and began walking toward the large double doors, each step echoing with finality.
As he stepped outside, the stares of the clan members pierced through him like needles. Some filled with disdain, others with a quiet sadness, but he paid them no mind. He kept walking, his pace steady, until the towering gates of the clan came into view.
In a few more minutes, he stood right at the edge, just a step away from crossing the boundary that had defined his entire life.
Turning back slowly, his gaze swept across the people gathered behind him. He studied each face, committing their expressions, of scorn, indifference, pity, and contempt, to memory. He would remember them all.
Because one day, he would return.
And when he did, he wouldn't be the same person they cast out.