Meanwhile, on the opposite side of the capital, the Armett mansion was filled with unrest.
The normally silent corridors were crowded with servants rushing from one place to another. Rumors traveled faster than any messenger.
Count Noah Armett had ordered the entire family to gather.
No one yet understood the magnitude of the disaster.
When the doors of the great hall closed, the elderly count looked over the faces of his children.
There was fear.
Confusion.
And a silence so heavy that it seemed to crush the air itself.
Noah struck his cane against the floor.
—Silence!
The sound echoed throughout the hall.
—I want to hear the truth. All of it.
His eyes stopped on Isabella.
—They say Caleb Douglas came to meet with you before he died.
Isabella felt her heart stop.
—What...?
Benjamin stepped forward.
His voice was filled with desperation.
—The rumors say he received an invitation from you. That Caleb went there believing you were waiting for him.
The young woman slowly widened her eyes.
—That is impossible...
She shook her head again and again.
—I never summoned him.
Never.
The count continued watching her in silence.
—Are you completely certain?
—Yes!
Isabella's voice finally broke.
—I did not send any message. I did not write any letter. I did not send any messenger.
Benjamin clenched his fists.
—The Douglas family will not listen to explanations.
He took a deep breath before continuing.
—If they truly believe Caleb was murdered while going to meet Isabella...
His voice grew heavier.
—They will not come to negotiate.
They will come to deliver a sentence.
A chill passed through the hall.
No one doubted the military power of the Douglas family.
Isabella felt tears beginning to gather in her eyes.
—How could someone do something like this...?
She slowly lowered her head.
—Someone used my name...
My seal...
My handwriting...
All of this happened because I failed to protect what represented our family.
If I had been more careful...
Maybe Caleb would still be alive.
Benjamin tried to approach her, but Noah raised a hand.
—No.
His voice regained the firmness of the head of the family.
—This is not the time for regrets.
He looked at everyone present.
—The person who did this was not only trying to kill Caleb Douglas.
He paused briefly.
—They were trying to turn our families against each other.
The silence confirmed that everyone had reached the same conclusion.
Noah breathed slowly.
—From this moment onward, no one leaves the mansion without my permission.
We will double security.
And we will begin our own investigation.
We will find the culprit...
Before Laurence Douglas decides to come looking for them with an army.
No one answered.
There was no need.
Everyone understood that time had run out.
Outside the mansion, the news was beginning to spread throughout the capital.
Merchants whispered in the markets.
Nobles exchanged information in their halls.
Soldiers discreetly reinforced the walls of their domains.
No one had declared war.
But for many...
It was only a matter of time.
While the capital held its breath at the possibility of war...
In the Douglas mansion, life continued.
Or, at least, it tried to.
Sofia's orders began to be carried out with absolute discretion.
The training grounds remained full from dawn. The knights practiced combat formations, the mages strengthened their support spells, and the blacksmiths worked endlessly over glowing-hot anvils.
No one spoke of war.
But everyone was preparing for it.
The sound of steel striking steel mixed with the roars of magical beasts and the constant crackling of the forges.
The mansion appeared peaceful.
It only appeared that way.
Lusian woke several hours later.
The wounds from the forest had almost completely healed, but exhaustion still weighed heavily on his body. Caleb's death and everything that had happened since their return continued to circle endlessly through his mind.
He needed to clear his thoughts.
He took his sword and walked toward the training hall.
He pushed open the door.
The first thing he saw was Jean lying on the wooden floor.
She was breathing heavily.
Her training uniform was completely soaked with sweat.
A few meters away, Albert sat calmly, holding a cup of tea in his hands as if the scene before him were the most ordinary thing in the world.
He did not even look up when he heard Lusian enter.
He simply took another sip.
—You're late.
Lusian looked between Jean and Albert.
—What happened?
—She trained.
Albert answered as if that explained everything.
Jean let out a weak groan.
Lusian rushed toward her and knelt down.
—Jean.
Are you alright?
The girl slowly opened her eyes.
—No...
I can't move my body...
I feel like my mana has stopped responding...
Her breathing was uneven.
Lusian placed a hand on her shoulder and released a small amount of mana to examine her.
Afterward, he sighed in relief.
—Relax.
You're not injured.
Your core used more energy than it can handle.
Rest for a few hours.
You'll be able to move normally again.
Jean weakly nodded.
Albert placed the cup on the table and slowly walked toward them.
He glanced at Jean for only a moment before answering.
—If she can still breathe today, it's because I stopped the training before her magical core broke.
Lusian frowned.
—You still haven't answered me.
Albert looked directly at him.
For the first time, his expression lost some of its usual coldness.
—Caleb is dead.
The hall fell silent.
—A Douglas heir was murdered in the middle of the capital.
He paused.
—If someone dares to kill a Douglas inside the kingdom's walls...
His eyes locked onto Lusian.
—How long do you think it will take before they try to kill you?
Lusian did not answer.
Albert continued.
—When that day comes, Umber will do everything possible to protect you.
Your mother will too.
I will too.
But none of us can promise that we will arrive in time.
He stepped closer until he was standing directly in front of Lusian.
—The only thing that can give you those extra seconds...
Is your own strength.
Albert slowly raised the training sword.
—I do not train you to make you the strongest.
I train you so that you remain alive long enough for us to reach you.
The words struck Lusian far harder than any sword could have.
Albert looked at the hilt of the weapon hanging from Lusian's belt.
He shook his head.
—And you are still holding it incorrectly.
Lusian lowered his gaze.
—I haven't even drawn it.
—It doesn't matter.
Albert pointed at the position of his feet.
—Your center of gravity is too far forward.
Your right shoulder is too tense.
And your dominant hand will take a fraction of a second longer to react.
They are small mistakes.
Mistakes an assassin would exploit.
Albert walked to the center of the hall.
There was no mockery on his face.
Only a concern hidden beneath years of military discipline.
—Come.
Today I will knock you down again.
And tomorrow as well.
Until the day comes when no one else can do it.
Lusian took a deep breath.
He understood perfectly what those words meant.
Albert was not trying to defeat him.
He was trying to prevent someone else from ever doing so.
He slowly drew his sword and assumed his combat stance.
Even if he ended up lying on the ground once again...
He would stand back up.
Because, for the first time, he understood that this training was not a test of strength.
It was preparation for survival.