Chapter 2: The Weight of a Lie

The next evening, the Great Hall was a symphony of polite, meaningless noise. Argus sat at the long, polished mahogany table, a perfect portrait of a dutiful son, the rich flavors of the roasted squab turning to ash in his mouth.

He waited for a lull in the conversation before speaking, letting his question fall into the quiet with the weight of a stone.

"Father," he began, his tone one of mild, academic curiosity, "I was exploring the lower catacombs today. What is the purpose of that rather unusual door near the old wine cellars?"

The effect was instantaneous. The room went dead silent.

His mother, the Duchess, shot him a panicked look, but the Duke was calm. "How much," he asked, his voice soft but heavy, "did you discover?"

“Not much,” Argus lied smoothly. “The magic was… complex.”

The Duke offered a thin, paternal smile. "It is useless to hide it. Though it is early, the time has come. I will show you the core of our great world, Argus. And your future responsibilities."

His mother protested, but a cold glare from the Duke silenced her.

Later, in the hallway, Argus stopped his mother. "What were you about to say at the table, Mother?" he asked, his voice a gentle façade.

She tried to brush it off. "It is nothing. That place... they are sacred grounds. Not for us to question."

His smile vanished. He leaned in, his voice a whisper of ice. "Don't lie to me, Mother. I know what's inside those 'sacred grounds'."

Terror bloomed on her face. "How...?"

"Won't you tell me everything you know?" he pressed, his voice a chillingly intimate threat. "After all, I am the only one who truly listens to you in this house, aren't I?"

She broke. "Follow me," she whispered.

In her private study, she revealed a hidden book and a story of poison. She told him of the Great War, of the noble hero Agus and his Companions who championed peace. She told him of the rival Cult of the New Dawn, who believed in human supremacy and built a utopia powered by a dark secret.

She spoke of how Agus discovered the Cult's secret—a pit of bodies used for fuel—and how the Cult's leader turned the tables, revealing a far greater horror beneath Agus's own castle. Framed by infiltrators, betrayed by his own people, and believing in a justice that no longer existed, Agus surrendered.

"He never stood trial," the Duchess whispered, her voice cracking. "He was taken by the Cult. They shattered his hope, then made him a test subject. He is not alive, Argus. But he is not dead either. He is the first battery. The heart of the System that powers our 'peace'. And the Cult... over the decades, they simply became the noble families that rule today. They became us."

She looked at her son, her eyes pleading. "My family... we were once loyal to Agus. We bent the knee to survive. You have his people's blood in your veins. Don't become one of them. Don't become a monster."

A short, brittle laugh escaped Argus's lips. "A monster?" he mused. "Mother, you still don't understand. They are not an aberration. They are the inevitable result."

He began to pace, his voice a cold, lecturing drone. "Humans are a paradoxical plague. Agus was a fool who tried to save a species hardwired for self-destruction. He offered them peace, and they rewarded him with a cage." He stopped at the door. "I have no intention of becoming a monster like my father."

He paused, his back to her.

"I am going to be the cure."