I leaned back slightly in my chair, my gaze cold and assessing.
I wondered if it was really okay for him telling me this.
Talking about family flaws and governance issues to the son of your liege lord—especially one with a reputation for aloofness—was risky.
I sounded it subtly, giving a fractional shrug.
"You speak with unusual candor for someone in your position, Cassian. Are you certain this is wise?"
Well, he answered it's okay?
He then gave a rueful, genuine smile.
"Your Highness, in truth, I find your reputation for indifference to be a relief. You listen, but you do not judge or seek to exploit my concerns. I would rather speak plainly to you for five minutes than waste a week speaking in riddles to the Imperial officials."
He also confessed without sounding rude that being around or near me was hard because there's an aura that was pressing everyone down.
He chose his words with care, but the honesty was startling.
"Though I confess, Prince Draeven," he continued, his smile fading slightly, "it is... difficult to maintain focus in your presence. There is an intensity, a strange weight in the air around you. It feels as though I am constantly holding my breath."
I couldn't blame him because, well... I can't control it.
His description was a perfect, horrifying confirmation of my Silent Dominion's passive effect.
The poor man was fighting an instinctive, legendary fear response just to talk about local tariffs.
Of course, I didn't say that.
Instead, I chose to maintain my facade of the distant, powerful noble who was simply too strong for lesser men to bear.
"A consequence of the Morvaine lineage," I stated coolly, my eyes drifting to the massive stone archway.
"Our Aura is potent, even when not actively cultivated. If you find the discomfort too great, you are free to leave."
Cassian immediately dipped his head.
"No, Your Highness. I apologize. I did not mean to complain. It is simply a truth. But your counsel on the river trade is invaluable. I shall endure the discomfort to hear more."
I didn't smile, but I felt a sliver of genuine respect for him.
He was willing to endure the passive psychological pressure of an uncontrolled trait for the sake of his people and his duty.
I didn't say it directly, but vaguely enough to be understood.
Friendship was a foreign concept, a danger to my carefully constructed indifference, and an impossibility given the pressure I constantly radiated.
But Cassian was genuinely interesting and, more importantly, stable.
I wanted to keep him in my orbit.
I placed my hands flat on the stone table, leaning forward slightly, the action causing him to subtly brace himself.
"Baron's heir," I began, using the formal address. "You possess a degree of stability I find… unusual. When I return to the Western Retreat, I may occasionally require updates on the governance of Veridian and your thoughts on local matters."
My words were a coded invitation.
It meant: 'I find you tolerable, I want to keep talking to you, and I won't ask a low noble to be "friends," but I will elevate you to the status of an informal political correspondent.'
Cassian clearly understood the weight of the moment. His eyes widened slightly.
"Your Highness, that would be a profound honor. I will ensure every report is thorough and accurate."
I vaguely told him as well that he was the first person I talked to long enough besides my family.
"Do not misunderstand me, Cassian," I continued, my voice low and dry.
"My time is not often spent in such extended discussions. You are the first person I have spoken with at this length who is not related to me by blood."
Of course, that was a lie.
I didn't have memories of the original Draeven to verify that.
But it was a believable statement for the aloof Prince and provided a subtle compliment to Cassian's conversational skills.
Cassian took the hint, his formal tension easing into genuine gratitude.
"I am deeply flattered by your attention, Prince Draeven. I will ensure your time is never wasted."
"See that you don't," I replied, rising to my feet.
The two hours were up, and my guards were already approaching to escort me.
"Until our next correspondence, Baron's heir," I concluded, giving him a final, dismissive nod before turning my back and walking toward the waiting carriage.
He stood perfectly straight, bowing deeply until I was fully seated and the door had closed.
I had successfully managed a social interaction, made a valuable connection, and kept my Mana Instability firmly at bay.
I'm happy with that.
We set off.
The heavy carriage began to roll forward again, the movement a gentle sway that immediately felt familiar and comfortable.
The knights closed ranks around me, resuming their vigilant formation.
Well, the Baron didn't manage to see me out, but his heir was there, and it was enough.
Cassian had maintained his flawless composure, bowing a final, deep farewell until the carriage had moved well past the courtyard gate.
That composure, and his genuine, if nervous, intelligence, made the entire stop worthwhile.
I made a friend.
The thought was strange, almost alien.
I hadn't used that word in years, perhaps since childhood in my previous life... Ah I don't have any friends in the first place.
But Cassian was the closest thing to an equal I had found in this new, terrifying world.
He was a stable, smart anchor who didn't overwhelm my senses or crumble under my latent power.
Being said that... Should I just been straightforward about us being friends than sounding it like that?
I sighed internally. 'A prince of the realm doesn't just ask a baron's heir to be friends. The difference in rank is too vast. My vague, commanding invitation was the only way to do it while maintaining my identity as Draeven Morvaine.'
Well, it already happened.
The arrangement was made, and I had the promise of future contact. That was what mattered.
Hmm still... The food was good there.
The faint memory of the fresh, sweet pastries served at Baron Aldus's study lingered.
Should I just stayed for lunch?
The desire for another meal from a place that wasn't my own isolated kitchen was tempting.
Well, it would be weird to stop the carriage and go back for lunch when I clearly said two hours.
The absurdity of demanding a powerful escort turn around for a sandwich was a step too far, even for an indifferent Morvaine prince.
I needed to maintain the appearance of purpose, not whimsy.
'Sigh. I'll simply request the same dishes be sent to the Western Retreat when I return,' I decided, the cold efficiency returning.
The dinner tonight would likely be exquisite anyway.
I turned my attention to the passing scenery, preparing myself for the true test of my composure.
The captain briefed me about the distance.
He rode alongside the carriage window, his voice muffled slightly by the glass and the rhythmic clip-clop of the horses.
"Your Highness, we maintain good speed. We will reach the city in the afternoon before it gets dark. You will have ample time to prepare before the dinner."
Sigh... I thought the carriage was comfy, but being here for too long, sitting for hours, was incredibly boring.
My initial wonder at the luxury had long worn off, replaced by the familiar mental static of having nothing to engage my mind.
I couldn't risk straining my Mana Instability by delving too deeply into magical theory or contemplating my trait.
I was forced to maintain a state of blank, cold indifference, which was exhausting in its monotony.
We will reach the city of Astram, where our Morvaine main palace was located, also our House's Morvaine headquarters.
That city was the biggest in the western lands.
Astram.
The name rolled in my mind, sounding appropriately grand and central.
It was the heart of my family's power, a major metropolitan hub that likely dwarfed the barony I had just left.
That meant more people, more noise, more powerful individuals, and a significantly higher level of stress.
My mask of aloof indifference had to be impenetrable if I wanted to survive the night without another spontaneous hemorrhage.
The excitement of finally arriving was entirely eclipsed by the cold necessity of self-preservation.
Thinking back about my new friend, Cassian, and his younger brother... that troublemaker brother of his.
The boy, Lias, who was arrogant and careless, spending his money frivolously and insulting nobles' daughters.
My calculating mind immediately saw an opportunity.
In a world defined by power and rank, a loose cannon like Lias could be a crucial, exploitable piece of the social puzzle—or a serious problem for Cassian.
I needed more of the story.
Yes, investigation.
I knocked on the wall of the carriage again.
The captain, whose name I now knew to be Sir Kael, was instantly at the window, his expression impassive but respectful.
"Your Highness?"
I didn't waste time on pleasantries. The matter was administrative, not personal.
"Captain Kael, once we are settled in Astram, I have a task for your intelligence officers."
"At your command, Your Highness," he replied, his voice firm.
"The Baron of Veridian's youngest son, Lias Aldus. I want a full dossier."