The sun was slowly disappearing behind the walls of the capital when the blue banner of the Douglas family appeared on the main road.
The caravan advanced in silence.
No one celebrated their return.
The soldiers' faces reflected the exhaustion of a week spent inside the Cymopelia Forest, where more than a third of the army had met their deaths.
The enormous gates of the Douglas mansion opened immediately.
However...
Something was wrong.
There were no butlers lined up to welcome the Duchess.
There were no servants announcing her arrival.
Only silence.
A heavy silence.
Sofia descended from Thunder while Larriet walked beside her. After taking only a few steps, she understood that tragedy had struck her home.
The maids were crying.
Several knights stood with their heads lowered.
Some servants could not even bring themselves to look her in the eyes.
Lusian frowned.
—What happened?
No one answered.
Then Laurence appeared.
His appearance made even Sofia stop.
He looked as if he had aged several years.
His uniform was still immaculate, but his hair was disheveled, his eyes were red, and his expression was completely empty.
It was the face of a man who had already cried all he could.
For several seconds, no one spoke.
Finally, Laurence broke the silence.
—Caleb... is dead.
Time seemed to stop.
Lusian felt the air leave his lungs.
—What...?
He could not finish the question.
The duke's eyes were enough to answer it.
Caleb.
His half-brother.
Had been murdered.
...
Hours later, the main officers of the duchy gathered in the duke's office.
The atmosphere was suffocating.
No one dared to raise their voice.
Laurence stood before the fireplace. The flames illuminated a face consumed by grief and anger.
A captain stepped forward.
—My lord... the preliminary investigation has concluded.
Everyone fell silent.
The captain took a deep breath before continuing.
—According to the servants' statements, young Caleb received a letter apparently sent by Miss Isabella Armett. Shortly afterward, he replied to the message and left the mansion to meet her.
The family butler stepped forward and bowed his head.
—My lord... the young master insisted on going with only one escort. I considered that decision reckless and, without informing him, ordered several men to follow him from a distance.
Laurence slowly raised his gaze.
—What happened?
—The young master left his escort at the restaurant entrance and entered the private room indicated in the letter alone.
The old butler clenched his fists.
—Our men remained watching the building. Only a few minutes later, they heard a loud crash and forced their way inside.
His voice trembled slightly.
—When they arrived... it was already too late.
Silence once again filled the office.
—The assassins had escaped through a back exit. Young Caleb... was already dead.
Lusian slowly lowered his head.
The captain continued his report.
—We questioned the restaurant employees. Everyone claims they saw young Caleb arrive with a letter in his hand.
—Did you find it? —asked Sofia.
—No.
The captain shook his head gravely.
—The assassins took it with them.
Sofia narrowed her eyes.
—As expected...
—However —the captain continued—, several servants from the mansion saw the Armett family seal when the letter arrived. Furthermore, the maid responsible for delivering it assures us that the seal, handwriting, and paper were identical to those previously used by Miss Isabella.
Laurence slammed his fist onto the desk.
The wood cracked beneath the impact.
—The Armetts will pay for this!
Sofia spoke before anyone else could respond.
—No.
Her voice was so firm that the entire room turned toward her.
—That proves absolutely nothing.
Laurence glared at her.
—Do you still intend to defend them?
—I am defending logic.
The duchess slowly crossed her arms.
—If someone wanted to frame Isabella, the first thing they would do would be to use her seal and imitate her handwriting.
She remained silent for a few seconds.
—And if that person was intelligent...
Her gaze swept across everyone present.
—...they would also make sure to recover the letter before escaping.
The office fell completely silent.
Lusian immediately understood her reasoning.
—That way, there would be no evidence left to examine.
—Exactly —Sofia nodded—. Only rumors, memories, and testimonies would remain. Enough to create hatred... but not enough to prove the truth.
Laurence closed his eyes.
For several seconds, he remained motionless, trapped between reason and grief.
He knew Sofia had valid arguments.
He knew that a war without evidence could destroy more lives than it saved.
But no amount of logic could extinguish the emptiness he felt in his chest.
In the end, the pain won.
—I do not care if the evidence disappeared.
His voice was low, but firm.
—I do not care who wrote that letter.
He opened his eyes.
And for the first time in a long while, Sofia saw the man before the duke.
—My son is dead.
Laurence walked toward the door.
—Where are you going? —Sofia asked.
He did not stop.
—I will gather the entire army.
Sofia slowly raised her gaze.
There was no anger in her eyes.
Only cold concern.
—You do not need to mobilize thousands of soldiers to crush a minor territory.
Laurence clenched his jaw.
—A minor territory?
—Yes.
Sofia stood.
—Because right now, you do not know who you are fighting.
Her words made Laurence stop for a moment.
—If you decide to start a war...
The duchess walked a few steps toward him.
—Do it because you know your enemy.
A brief pause.
—Do it because you have a strategy.
Her voice softened slightly.
—Not because someone managed to turn your grief into a weapon.
Laurence remained silent.
For a moment, it seemed as though he was listening.
But then he clenched his hand tightly.
The pain returned, taking the place of reason.
Without answering, he opened the door.
Before leaving, he spoke his final words.
—I will find the culprit.
His voice carried a dangerous determination.
—No matter how long it takes.
—No matter who tries to stop me.
The door closed.
Sofia remained alone in the room.
And for the first time, she understood something that worried her more than Caleb's death.
Laurence was not searching for justice.
He was searching for someone to blame.