Vencian waited, keeping his expression neutral. Whatever ca next would set the tone for everything that followed.
The older man continued, "She said you saved her life. For that, I’m grateful."
"I did what was necessary," Vencian said.
Larion leaned back slightly. "She ntioned more than that. About your agreent. And the promise you made to her before leaving Coriel."
Vencian watched his expression, calm but searching. "Which part of it?"
"The one concerning her nature," Larion said. "She told you learned what she is. And that you chose silence."
Vencian didn’t reply. The words sank in with quiet weight. He had expected gratitude, perhaps warning, but not this.
Larion’s gaze sharpened. "You assured her you wouldn’t tell the Crown she’s an Arkspren."
There it was. Spoken aloud. A cri in itself.
He said nothing. Silence said more.
Larion’s voice lowered. "You understand what that ans. Harboring such knowledge makes you complicit. I would like to know why."
Vencian allowed a faint breath. "Because she’s my friend."
Inside, he almost smiled. Another lie. And he knows it. But he wanted Larion to see through the act. To see how deliberate the phrasing was.
Larion’s brows drew slightly. "Friendship rarely survives when weighed against loyalty to the realm."
"That depends on which loyalty matters more," Vencian said.
The older man studied him for a long mont. "Tell then—what do you want for keeping this secret?"
Vencian tilted his head, hiding any hint of reaction. "Before I answer that, perhaps you should finish what you brought here for. You didn’t summon only to negotiate silence."
Larion’s lips curved faintly, the first true expression since entering. "Your instincts do you credit, Lord Vicorra. I did have another reason."
He let the pause hang before speaking again. "Stay away from my daughter."
It took a second for the words to settle. Vencian’s mind repeated them once before he answered. "I beg your pardon?"
Larion’s tone remained flat. "You heard . Whatever arrangent or interest exists between you ends now."
Vencian’s expression didn’t move. Stillness served him better than argunt. "That is... unexpected," he said finally. "I’m almost offended by the way you phrased it."
Larion didn’t flinch. "Offense isn’t my concern."
Vencian leaned forward slightly. "Tell then—have our houses ever been at odds in ways I’m unaware of?"
"No," Larion said. "They haven’t."
Vencian let the answer hang in the air, offering nothing in return. Inside, his thoughts turned cold and precise. So this isn’t politics. It’s personal.
"She’s an adult," he said calmly. "She makes her own choices. You don’t control that."
Larion’s gaze hardened. "I am her guardian, regardless of what title you assign her."
"Guardian, yes," Vencian said. "But she isn’t your blood. You have no right to dictate her choices beyond your household."
The silence between them thickened.
Vencian t the man’s stare. "Why are you doing this? If you’re trying to protect her, you’re going about it in a very public way."
Larion’s voice stayed calm. "It’s for her benefit."
Vencian gave a short scoff. "You’ll forgive if I doubt that. Your version of benefit sounds a lot like control."
Larion didn’t react. "Tell what you want in return for complying."
That made Vencian pause. Then the corner of his mouth tilted upward. There it is. He’s the one who broke position first.
He’s the one offering terms.
I win.
He leaned slightly forward, his tone careful, almost casual. "Now we’re getting sowhere."
The High Preceptor waited.
Vencian’s mind was already moving through possible outcos, each step forming a structure of leverage. If he’s willing to bargain, then he has more to lose than I do. All I have to do is na the right price.
He looked across the desk, the faintest trace of satisfaction reaching his thoughts. The situation bends in my direction now.
Vencian leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. "Since you’re offering, I’ll be plain," he said. "I don’t need money or a position. I need safety."
Larion’s brow lifted slightly. "From what?"
"From whoever wants gone," Vencian replied. "You’ve seen the reports from Coriel. What happened there wasn’t random. I was targeted."
Larion watched him carefully. "By whom?"
Vencian exhaled. "There’s a group operating beneath the surface. Old, organized, patient. They had five-dotted tattoos in a pentagram shape on their upper arm."
Larion’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes sharpened. "I’m aware. They’re declared as the official culprit of the accident happened in Coriel."
"I doubt you’ve know what they really do," Vencian said. "They were at the Coriel to take away sothing ancient– that chalice. Though it’s not found anymore we can only conclude that it’s with them."
It was a lie. He had watched that chalice break apart into pieces so tiny they could never be found again.
He folded his hands. "My family line already draws attention. The Vicorra na has weight, and that weight attracts enemies who think they can trade favors by removing from the board. Combine that with the Five-Dotted’s interest, and I’m in a position that doesn’t invite longevity."
Larion regarded him in silence.
"So," Vencian continued, "if you want to stay away from your daughter, I can do that. But I need your help to stay alive as long as I’m a student of this academy."
Larion didn’t answer imdiately.
Vencian t his eyes. "That’s my price."
Larion stayed silent. The quiet stretched until it felt intentional.
Then he spoke. "I can do that," he said. "But you understand, I cannot be beside you every mont. Protection has limits."
Vencian gave a faint nod. "That’s a fair point," he said. "But I think I have a solution for it."
Larion tilted his head slightly.
"In Coriel," Vencian said, "you arrived soon after the fight. Too soon. From Ralan to Coriel takes nine or ten hours by boat. Yet you were there almost right after it ended. That ans either you were close, or you have the ans to cover distance far quicker than any carriage."
Larion’s face revealed nothing.
"Roselys ntioned sothing else," Vencian continued. "You can sense her when she uses her power."
Larion gave a slow nod. "Both are true guesses."
"Then there must be a way for to alert you when I’m in danger," Vencian said. "If you can find her through that link, it shouldn’t be difficult to extend it."
Larion folded his hands. "There is a way," he admitted.
"Good," Vencian said.
Larion regarded him a mont longer. "But tell , Lord Vicorra, can you truly trust for that?"
Vencian waited.
"I could choose not to co," Larion said calmly. "If you were in danger, I could let events run their course. Roselys’s secret would stay buried, and you would no longer be near her."
Vencian smiled faintly. "You had your chance before," he said. "You didn’t kill then. Doing so now would make you look careless."
He leaned forward slightly. "But if you really want to try, you can. The only question is whether you’re willing to risk being wrong about what I’m capable of."
Inside, he knew it was a hollow bluff. He had nothing to counter the High Preceptor if Larion decided otherwise. He doesn’t need to know that. Confidence alone could tilt the balance.
Larion’s expression eased. "You have your father’s nerve," he said finally. "Very well."
He stood and extended his hand. "We’ll call it agreed."
Vencian rose and clasped it. "Agreed."
They exchanged a brief nod before Larion gestured toward the door. The eting was over.
Vencian left the office, the sound of his boots echoing down the empty corridor.
When the last turn placed the office out of sight, faint shimr lit beside him. Quenya appeared, arms crossed, floating at his shoulder.
"So," she said, "will you keep your word this ti? You really plan to break contact with her?"
Vencian didn’t look at her. "Why are you so concerned?" he asked. "Growing attached to her after all those hours watching her?"
Quenya snapped, "I watched because you made do it, idiot." Her voice carried irritation. "Don’t twist it. Answer the question."
Vencian’s gaze stayed forward. "I wasn’t the one who ca asking for a deal. She did. Now I have Larion’s protection and a direction to move. I don’t need her anymore."
Quenya gave a sharp sound between laugh and scoff. "So that’s it? People are tools to you? Use them until they’re dull?"
He said nothing.
She pressed on. "Maybe think about why Larion wants you away from her in the first place. What if there’s sothing she’s trying to stop? Sothing that matters beyond her?"
Her voice dropped. "You saw what those villagers did. You saw the children. You really want to walk blind again because it’s convenient?"
"Enough. I’ve already confird the deal," Vencian said.
Quenya muttered under her breath but fell silent.
They walked the rest of the hall in quiet. Then he spoke again. "I agreed to stay away from her," he said. "That doesn’t an I can’t talk to her."
Quenya frowned. "What’s that supposed to an?"
He gave her a sidelong look, a faint grin forming. "This world has plenty of ways to speak without being present."
Realization crossed her face. Her irritation lted into a matching grin.
"Of course you’d think of that," she said.
Vencian’s eyes narrowed slightly in amusent. And of course you’d understand it.
They moved on, their steps fading into the quiet corridor.
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