[House of Monreal]
Marceline perched on a divan, tapping her fingertips against the armrest. Her brows were raised, her mind drifting elsewhere.
Hours ago, she had received a call from Atlas, informing her that he would visit personally. He didn’t say much, only that it was an important matter he wished to discuss in person. Since Atlas was in a position to make such a request, Marceline had agreed to open her doors to him.
But why?
"A matter that he can only discuss personally?" she humd, wondering what other issues the Order might be facing at the mont. "Is he... finally going to start a war with the Bellemonte family?"
Right now, the Order was in an awkward position because of Henrik’s disappearance.
Atlas claid it had been an attack by an outside force, but it was difficult to prove sothing like that, especially within his own territory. Even so, after their last eting, Marceline wasn’t entirely confident in her doubts. Atlas wouldn’t make such a blatant claim lightly... even though he was certainly capable of blatant lies.
"Since Henrik’s disappearance, everything’s been... odd," she whispered to herself, her eyes narrowing as she tried to identify the strange tension in the secret society that had been bothering her.
Tension was always high among them. The leaders never truly got along. They might et once in a blue moon, but not often enough to build genuine friendships. After all, each family constantly kept watch over the others. They could never truly lower their guard, even with the council in place.
Moreover, with the current situation, Atlas eting another head of a founding family would certainly create a different impression. Unless he intended to make the Bellemonte family panic, then eting her could serve that purpose.
But Marceline was not keen on being used like that. She would’ve refused, but part of her wanted to understand the strange feeling that had been gnawing at her.
"Not to ntion Henrik asking Atlas for help," she murmured, piecing together everything she knew about the events leading up to his disappearance. "Don’t tell that witch has sothing to do with this?"
She frowned, thinking of Iris Bellemonte. Marceline had attended their wedding. Though it was nothing more than a marriage of convenience, there had been nothing particularly suspicious about it. Marceline herself had entered into a similar arrangent and had never been bothered by it, so long as her husband didn’t cross the line.
"This is making feel... deeply unsettled," she admitted quietly, her leg crossed as her foot shook restlessly. "Henrik’s actions before his disappearance... and now Atlas requesting to et personally."
She shook her head, telling herself not to overthink it.
But just as she began to relax, the door suddenly burst open.
"Madam! Madam!"
She frowned at the panicked butler. "I haven’t lost my hearing, Sebastian."
The butler panted. "But Madam—"
"What?" she deadpanned. "Do you need to find your brother another job after he was dismissed from his previous one?"
"We are under attack!" the butler blurted, dropping the composed manner of speech he had been trained to maintain. "Madam, we are... under attack!"
Marceline’s eyes widened as she pushed herself off the divan. "What did you say?"
"Madam," he panted, already moving toward her. He grabbed her arm. "We have to leave now. It’s dangerous!"
Before he could drag her away, Marceline slapped his hand aside.
Shock was written across her face, but not fear. If they were under attack, the threat was still far from the main house. It could be neutralized before significant damage spreads.
Still, the very thought that soone dared attack her territory made her blood boil.
"Who?" she demanded, her voice dark and steady. "Who dared attack my territory?"
It couldn’t be any of the founding families. None of them would underestimate her like that. So naturally, her thoughts went to her long list of other enemies.
The butler’s face twisted. "Madam, I think I should brief you while we’re escaping—"
"And why would I escape?" Marceline’s mood darkened further. "Sebastian, do you look down on now?"
"No, but this isn’t sothing you should handle recklessly!" he shouted, sothing he had never done in all his years of service. "It’s the Order we’re up against!"
Silence fell between them.
Marceline stared at him as if she hadn’t heard him correctly or as if her mind simply refused to process it.
When she finally found her voice, she could only utter one word.
"What?"
"Madam." The butler stepped closer, his panic unmistakable. "The Shadow Order launched an attack against us. They’ve set part of our territory on fire!"
"The Order?" Marceline repeated, now thoroughly confused. "That’s impossible. Atlas wouldn’t— How certain are you that it was the Order?"
"We verified it as soon as the attack began," he explained urgently. "But Madam, we shouldn’t remain idle! If this continues, they might attack the estate itself!"
Despite his rising panic, Marceline’s expression only darkened further. She raised her hand, silencing him.
"Sebastian, leave."
"Madam?"
She drew a slow breath and walked back to the divan. "Prepare so hors d’oeuvres for my guest and serve the best wine we have."
Confusion etched across Sebastian’s face as he stared at the woman who had calmly resud her seat.
"Just do it," Marceline ordered, her eyes glinting. "Atlas requested an audience with , yet his people have set part of my territory on fire. I would very much like to hear his explanation—and I hope it’s a good one."
She studied him coolly, unfazed by a threat that could potentially end the House of Monreal overnight.
"And while you prepare the refreshnts, call for Chirp. Inform him that I, Marceline Monreal, may be going to war. Tell him to prepare at once."
Sebastian swallowed hard, searching her face for any sign she might reconsider. But he knew better. Once Marceline made a decision, she did not waver.
After a deep exhale, he straightened and lowered his head. "What shall we do about your guest?"
"Open the doors wide," she instructed without looking at him. "But if you see any suspicious behavior... shoot him in the head."
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