章節 40: Diagnosis (2)
Lucius Earhart
— …Thus, twelve of our agents are among the Pope's cardinals. Forty-three more are placed among the highest aristocratic servants, and from the Pillars, representatives of the Brotherhood of the Luminous Hand maintain contact with us. However, there's a high likelihood that the Order of the Saint's Eye—the Pillars' first order—has already noticed our actions.
— Understood. You may sit down, Adrian.
My elder brother gave a brief bow and returned to his seat.
Today's routine Guardian's assembly, held every three days by the Patriarch, included Adrian, Aurora, Gabriel, Selena, and myself. The Matriarch and Liliana joined us via magical projection.
We discussed pressing matters: the situation with Solaris, and our plans for the upcoming tournament. Everything proceeded as usual until—
— By the way, what happened with Theo? — Alonzo asked offhandedly, his gaze still fixed on his stack of documents.
Of course. Father couldn't avoid mentioning the morning's incident.
— There was a confrontation between Theo and Raphael, — I stood to explain. — Theo attempted to provoke him by insulting the younger's bodyguard.
— Go on.
— In response, Raphael slammed Theo into the wall, leaving him with a head injury. He's being treated and resting in his room now. No serious harm; Raphael didn't exert much force.
I emphasized this, hoping the Patriarch wouldn't interpret it as an attack on one of the family's heirs. Otherwise, Raphael could face severe consequences.
— To summarize: in a few days, Theo will be back on his feet, ready to participate in the tournament.
Glancing around, I noticed shock flash across the faces of Liliana and Selena. Only the blind could have missed my constant animosity toward Raphael, yet here I was defending him before the Patriarch. It likely came as a surprise to them.
— So you're saying this was merely a brotherly scuffle?
— Precisely, Patriarch.
Silence settled, and the Patriarch folded his arms, lost in thought. I was certain Alonzo understood that this was no mere "scuffle." Everyone knew how detestable Theo's behavior could be, and how fiercely loyal Raphael was to those he held dear. Given the circumstances, hitting Theo was practically a natural response.
Father, of course, saw through it all. He likely knew every detail of the incident. Nothing within this family escaped the Patriarch's awareness. Alonzo had always known about my manipulation of the younger family members and servants; he just hadn't seen a reason to interfere yet.
But one day, I'll find a way around him…
This charade was merely a test of the Guardians' reactions. Alonzo had likely already made up his mind.
— How can you call this a "brotherly scuffle"?!
All heads turned toward another projection, its owner's voice a long-forgotten echo in my memory.
— An adopted son of this family dares to attack a pureblooded Earhart! We can't just sweep this under the rug! At the very least, Raphael must be punished!
I sighed, not bothering to look toward the screen, where the familiar voice emanated.
Why even look? There was no point in wasting a glance on the old man—pushing eighty, yet still convinced of his importance because he held the title of Deputy Head of the Elders' Council. Fool. He could wield a sword, but intelligence had always eluded him.
He couldn't grasp the obvious: that if handled poorly, Raphael could turn into the family's worst enemy. But who am I kidding? These relics still saw him as an outsider, despite his potential. They would never change.
But the elders' voices still carried weight within the family, so I had to take action, despite my disdain for their stubbornness.
— What's the point of punishing the "Young Prodigy of the Earharts" right before the tournament? It would cast the family in a negative light, — I said calmly.
— You're suggesting we just ignore it?!
— Yes. No serious injury occurred; nothing truly damaging happened. Or do you genuinely want to punish the most popular family member just before his debut on the arena? — I shifted my gaze to the elder. — Will you bear the responsibility for the potential backlash and unfavorable response from our guests?
— Well… I…
He stammered, and I watched as everyone in the room, including the Patriarch, turned their gaze on him with barely veiled threat.
None of us would allow the family name to be tarnished over something so trivial, especially considering Theo's value to the family compared to Raphael's.
— In any case, something has to be done, — the elder muttered, scowling as if annoyed at the thought of the dispute ending in defeat for him.
— Very well, — the Patriarch spoke decisively. — Let's pair Theo and Raphael for the tournament. They can resolve their grievances in the arena.
— I-in the tournament? But, Patriarch!
— What's the issue? It's a fair condition, — Alonzo replied, his expression unchanged. — If anyone should feel slighted, it's Theo, correct? Or are you further disgracing him by insisting on punishing Raphael instead of letting them settle things honorably?
— I… understand, — the elder ground his teeth, barely containing his frustration. — Fine, let them fight.
Yet no one in the hall cared about his irritation. The Patriarch's words served as the final verdict, closing the matter. Everyone was content with the Patriarch's decision; even the most stubborn elders had no grounds left to argue.
The elder's reaction was predictable. To insist further would be to openly admit Theo's weakness and inability to uphold the family's honor alone. Conversely, to press for disciplinary action against Raphael would only shame the family by denying him the right to a fair duel.
— Aurora, how is the tournament proceeding? Have the cadet pre-tournament matches begun?
The Patriarch turned to my sister, and I returned to my seat, clasping my hands and watching for her response. Aurora rose, her graceful yet confident movement drawing every eye in the room.
— Yes, Patriarch. The first round has already concluded, and the second will begin tomorrow. By the sixteenth, all qualifying matches should be finished, and we'll have the finalized list of participants for the main tournament.
— Which family members are participating?
Aurora picked up the tablet lying beside her on the table, her fingers skimming over the screen as she scanned the list. Then, glancing up at us, she began to read.
— Besides Raphael and Theo, we have Eric, Mia, and Selena competing.
— Selena, — the Patriarch turned to her. — You're already a Guardian; participation isn't required of you. Are you certain you want this?
— Yes, Patriarch. I want to test my strength.
— Very well, — Alonzo nodded slightly in approval. — Continue, Aurora.
— Also participating are the bodyguards Kiall, Cedric, Chinatsu, Erin, as well as the personal bodyguards of Eric and Mia. Theo's bodyguard withdrew his application an hour before the assembly.
I suppressed a smile, leaning into my hand. What a fitting twist. It seems this "knight" of Theo's had felt the difference between himself and Raphael's bodyguards even before the embarrassment reached its peak. Looks like he preferred fleeing to facing more humiliation.
Like master, like servant.
The report continued, filled with bureaucratic minutiae: arrangements for guests from Alcion, assignments for the envoys of the Elven Kingdom of Miriel, and various other tiresome formalities. After wrapping up the discussion, the Patriarch dismissed us, wishing us well in preparing for the upcoming events.
As I left the hall, heading toward my quarters, a familiar voice called out from behind.
— Lucius, may I have a word?
Turning around, I saw Aurora standing a mere three paces away. Observing her now, I realized that this was no longer the girl who once worried over Raphael with childish naivety. Before me stood a young woman, transformed—a warrior with unyielding resolve, evident in her every movement, in each steady breath.
Her aura, restrained yet potent, seemed to fill the space around her, leaving a sense of weight and an elusive tension in the air. This was the control possessed by only a rare few who could blend strength with discipline to the point of tangibility. I knew even I would need to be wary if we ever faced each other in battle.
— Of course. What would you like to discuss?
— Let's go. This isn't the place for it.
I followed Aurora as she led me to her study. The room greeted us with a warm, restrained dimness that lent an air of calm, slightly detached from the world outside.
The room's decor—from the massive desk neatly arranged with folders to the oak bookshelves lining the walls—suggested that its occupant was far more inclined toward work than relaxation.
My gaze fell briefly on an empty glass resting on the desk, its bottom stained with a couple of dark brown droplets—the remnants of a strong drink.
In the center of the room was a low table flanked by two leather armchairs, toward which Aurora headed without looking back.
— Take a seat, — she said, nodding toward the other armchair.
I sat down, feeling the atmosphere subtly align itself with a sense of expectancy. Honestly, I was eager to hear what she had to say. Though I had my suspicions about the nature of this conversation, I wanted to hear it in her own words.
Aurora wasn't in any rush, though every movement she made was deliberate and calm. She picked up a second glass that was already on the table and placed it in front of me. Then she opened a small cabinet, took out a bottle filled with dark amber liquid, and set it between us. With smooth, assured motions, she poured a modest amount into each glass, adding a few cubes of ice to both.
She seemed to savor the quiet moment before slowly raising her glass and taking a small sip. I followed suit, bringing the glass to my nose to appreciate the warm, slightly biting aroma.
— Mmm… whiskey… must be an expensive one, — I murmured.
— A gift from my classmates, — she smiled at the glass. — After a mission where I had to drag them out of a dungeon.
— I see…
Aurora had clearly earned her respect. From what I'd heard, she was viewed more as a leader than a peer by her academy mates. Although, given her age at the time, a gift as mature as this one was… unexpected.
Taking a sip, I felt the warmth of the drink spread down my throat, leaving a rich aftertaste of oak-aged intensity. The flavor unfolded in layers, like a melody, balancing bitterness and a touch of sweetness that underscored the whiskey's quality.
— So… what did you want to talk about? — I asked, lowering the glass and looking at her intently.
She gradually shifted her gaze from her glass to the unlit fireplace, reflecting only faint traces of light. Her expression remained calm. Her eyes softened slightly as she turned to me, offering a faint, almost imperceptible smile that I instantly recognized as forced.
— It's about Raphael, of course.
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