Chapter 8 : The Bloodline Expands

The grand hall of the Wolfhart estate stood radiant as servants hurried about, arranging lavish decorations for the return of Morgana Wolfhart and her sons. The air was thick with anticipation as their carriage rolled into the courtyard, its gold-trimmed wheels glinting under the morning sun.

Morgana descended first, exuding regal elegance. Her sharp eyes, the same soft sky blue as her hair, swept across the gathered servants, noting every bow and gesture of respect. Behind her followed Zephyrin, his presence magnetic, every step composed and assured. His navy blue hair and eyes contrasted sharply with his calm demeanor, giving him a composed, almost intimidating air. The youngest, Veyron, mirrored his elder brother's demeanor but faltered slightly, his sky blue hair and eyes betraying the insecurity in his gaze despite his confident posture.

Alaric stood by Selene at the entrance, his expression unreadable. Selene, gentle and poised, offered a warm but reserved smile. As Morgana approached, her lips curled into a polite but pointed smile.

"Sister Selene," Morgana greeted with a tone laced with condescension, "Still radiant despite... well, everything."

Selene’s smile didn't waver. "Welcome back, Morgana. It's been a while."

The exchange was brief but sharp, laden with unspoken tensions that even the servants could sense. Aren watched from behind Alaric, his cold eyes assessing the situation.

[ Dinner Gathering ]

The evening dinner was a spectacle of grandeur. A long table adorned with silverware stretched across the hall, where the Wolfhart family and their esteemed guests sat. Conversations flowed, but beneath the surface, political and familial currents simmered.

Zephyrin charmed everyone with his eloquent speech, while Veyron glanced at Aren repeatedly, his eyes filled with unspoken challenge. Morgana, seated beside Alaric, took every opportunity to subtly undermine Selene.

"Tell me, Selene," Morgana began, "Isn't it exhausting managing things here without proper support?"

Selene’s voice remained calm. "The support I have is more than enough."

Aren clenched his fists beneath the table but kept his expression neutral. Alaric’s eyes flickered with a hint of warning, but he remained silent.

As the dinner neared its end, Morgana raised her glass. "I have a delightful suggestion."

All eyes turned to her.

"Why don't we have a friendly duel between Veyron and Aren? It would be wonderful for the young ones to build camaraderie and hone their skills."

Alaric's eyes darkened. "That's unnecessary."

"Oh, come now," Morgana insisted. "It’s just a simple spar. Surely you aren't afraid for your son Aren ?"

Veyron smirked. "I don't mind showing Aren a thing or two."

Zephyrin's voice was smooth. "It would be interesting to watch the skills of Wolfhart's heir, wouldn’t it?"

Alaric's jaw tensed. He looked at Aren, who remained calm, his expression unreadable. Under mounting pressure, Alaric relented. "Very well."

Morgana's eyes gleamed with triumph.

[ The Night Before the Duel ]

The soft crackle of a candle echoed in the silence of my room. I stood by the window, eyes fixed on the vast estate bathed in moonlight. My mind replayed the events of the day.

Morgana Wolfhart. So, she’s the Duke’s first wife. Her entrance earlier was grand, calculated to command attention. The way she carried herself, with her chin high and every word sharpened beneath polite smiles, told me enough—she was a woman used to getting what she wanted. Her gaze lingered on Mother a little too long, cold and assessing. There was no warmth between them, only a rivalry simmering just below the surface. Was it merely personal, or something deeper tied to status?

Then there was Zephyrin (stage 4 - Manifest Aura). Calm, polite, and composed—too composed. He wore a perfect image, each word spoken with meticulous precision. It was unnatural. People who never showed cracks were usually hiding something beneath their polished exterior. I didn't know what he was hiding yet, but I'd figure it out soon enough.

Veyron, on the other hand, the same age as me , was an open book. Arrogant, impulsive, and radiating an inflated sense of self-worth. He didn’t even bother hiding the glare he shot at me during dinner. His eyes held that desperate gleam—one that belonged to someone constantly seeking validation. Insecurity wrapped in ego.

I crossed my arms, leaning against the window frame. I didn’t have all the answers, but one thing was clear—this duel wasn’t a coincidence. Morgana orchestrated it. Her suggestion wasn't casual; it had a purpose. Maybe she wanted to see me humiliated or gauge my abilities. Either way, I didn't care.

Backing down wasn’t in my nature.

I closed my eyes and exhaled slowly. "We'll see what happens tomorrow," I muttered under my breath. Whatever game they were playing, I'd make sure I wasn't the one being played.

[ Morning ]

The next morning, Sylvie knocked on the door. "Young Master, are you awake?"

I opened the door. Sylvie smiled warmly. "Good luck today. I know you'll do great."

Her genuine care softened my cold expression for a fleeting moment. "Thank you, Sylvie."

As I headed toward the training ground, Edwin walked beside me. In a low voice, he advised, "Try not to hurt Veyron too much."

My lips curled into a faint smirk. "Let’s see what will happen."

Edwin sighed, knowing my indifference to political consequences all too well.

To be continued... 

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