Vaeliyan nodded. "I thank you, Ryan, but I do have to do this. Who knows, maybe this is where I find that I will love my family, and they're exactly what I need, and I'll finally find a ho."
While he said it, his facial expressions told a different story. His eyes were flat and distant; his lips pulled in the kind of polite smile that never reached his face. Every line of his posture warned that he was saying it only for the benefit of anyone who might be listening, hoping to avoid hostility by pretending to be willing to hear her out. Ryan seed to understand. They nodded once, tapped the cheek where they had kissed him, and then they left with a rustle of silk and the faint click of immaculate shoes fading into the distance.
Vaeliyan stood in front of the door for a long mont. The quiet felt heavy. He could almost feel the air pressing against his skin, like the room itself was holding its breath. Then he looked back at Bastard. "Hey, buddy... we should go et my grandmother, I think. I'm not sure what she would want to call her, but I think it's ti. Maybe not so big, though. Could you make yourself smaller?"
Bastard tilted his head, silver eyes glowing faintly, and then he nodded. His massive war form collapsed inward like folding shadow. Armor plates slid away like lting glass, muscle and claw retracting until, in seconds, he was his compact house form again. He padded to Vaeliyan’s side with a low chuff, then leapt into his arms, curling up against Styll, who was already nestled into the deep pocket of his coat. The two of them fit together like parts of a single strange heartbeat.
Together they stepped through the threshold of the door.
The room beyond was immaculate. Polished marble floors glead like still water, and fine tapestries depicting sweeping forest scenes lined the walls like windows to a gentler world. A subtle fragrance of wildflowers hung in the air, too precise to be natural. A low table sat between plush armchairs, laid out with delicate porcelain teacups and small plates of perfectly shaped cookies, each one arranged like a work of art. Seated there was a very well-dressed young woman who radiated composure like heat.
Vaeliyan knew better. He had seen her before. This was Justinia Verdance, the head of House Verdance, and technically, maybe, his grandmother.
He wasn't sure how being a bastard's bastard worked, especially since he wasn’t actually the original Vaeliyan. Bloodlines blurred at this depth of the family tree, and legitimacy was a ga of perspective more than blood. But it didn’t matter. What mattered was that she was smiling at him.
“Good choice, my dear,” she said warmly. Her voice was soft but carried with perfect control, like a knife hidden in velvet. “It is a pleasure to et you, Vaeliyan. What a lovely na. I am certain we will get along rather well. Do not listen to those cretins out there and their slanderous lies about my intentions. I am only here to offer you congratulations from a House that has so wronged you.”
She seed sincere. He saw no tells in her expression, no tension at the corners of her mouth, no flick of the eyes. But he knew better than to trust what his eyes told him. She was probably lying through her teeth, and there wasn’t much he could do about it. This woman could kill him in an instant if she wanted to, and there was nothing anyone in this room could do to stop her. Maybe Ryan could have stopped her. Maybe. But that would start a war, and Vaeliyan had no intention of being the reason for one.
He would rather face this dragon alone.
"It's alright. Thank you. I appreciate it," he said carefully. "What should I call you?"
“Oh, I’m your grandmother. Don’t worry about it, dear.”
“Well, grandmother, it is a pleasure to finally et you. I rember your elegance when I first ca to the Citadel. You spoke about the match with Deic and Alex. It was inspiring. You spoke rather well about their potential."
"I don’t really rember that exactly. I do so many of these, you see. PR and all," she said with a delicate shrug, like the entire conversation had already been catalogued and filed away.
"I understand," Vaeliyan replied, his tone asured. "Is there sothing I can help you with, grandmother?"
“Vaeliyan, my dear grandson, my lovely boy... it’s not what you can do for us. It’s what we can do for you.” She leaned forward slightly, her eyes softening like silk folding over steel. “You have probably lived such a hard life. If I had known the struggles you went through, I would have taken you in myself and raised you properly.”
“I appreciate that. I don’t think I was raised properly. I... I’m at a loss for words here. I am not good with this,” he admitted, eyes dropping for the first ti.
“We can teach you that, my dear,” Justinia said smoothly. “Maybe we will transfer you to the Green Citadel. Your prestige here is limited. There is only so much to be gained from the Red. It is a substandard Citadel run by a substandard Headmaster. If you would like, I can give you a recomndation to the Green. Seeing that you are currently the apprentice of the Headmaster of the Red, we could easily have you accepted as the apprentice of the Headmaster of the Green. He is a personal friend of mine, and I have considerable pull there.”
Vaeliyan tilted his head, thinking it through. She was trying to own him. He smiled faintly anyway. “I think I will stick it out here. This is where I ca up. This is where I gained all of my notoriety. I think it would be better for my publicity to co from a smaller Citadel.”
“Good thinking,” Justinia said, though her eyes held no mirth. “Yes. We will do that. You should co to my estate for a visit soon. Perhaps after your trial, we will discuss more of your potential and how we can help you see it to its fullest.”
Her smile never touched her eyes.
Justinia turned to him and said, "Enough about that. How about you co and sit and have so tea with your grandmother?"
Vaeliyan had taken enough of a look around the room to know there was only one thing here she would truly appreciate him eating, and he was not a fan of it. There were cakes, pies, cookies, biscuits, and treats of every sort. Their aromas were sweet, floral, sharp, and strange, wafting through the air like perfud smoke. Silver cutlery glead like captive moonlight, and crystal glasses glimred faintly with condensation, untouched. But on the most gilded plate sat a towering, perfectly stacked pile of bug bars. They were arranged like jewels, each one engraved with the Verdance crest as though ant for ceremony rather than hunger, and even the plate beneath them was inset with psyro-glass veins pulsing faintly with light.
He said, "Oh no, I’m not hungry."
"Co on, my dear," she said smoothly. "Don’t worry about it. I know what they said, and the bug bars are only for my enemies. You can have whatever you like. There are so of my favorites here. Have you ever had gob-gob fruit? It is absolutely delectable. The flavors are unreal. It just lts you."
Vaeliyan raised an eyebrow, trying to gauge how much of her offer was a trap. "I’m going to cut through this," he said, eyes flicking between the desserts. "And I just need to get a real answer, because that pie looks aweso, and I’m a little dumb sotis, and I don’t know the right etiquette for this. But are you telling that I can have that pie and you won’t snap my neck?"
"Oh dear, I would never snap your neck. I would have soone else do it," she said with a laugh that chid like cut crystal.
He laughed too. The laughter never reached her eyes, but she did cut him a piece of the pie and lay it out next to her seat. He sat down with her, his movents slow and deliberate, watching her hands for even the faintest twitch. The chair cushions were softer than they looked, swallowing him like warm silk.
Bastard looked at her, and she looked at him. There was a strange stillness in the air as their gazes locked, sothing primal and wordless passing between them. Bastard’s tail flicked once. She did not flinch.
Styll popped her head out of his pocket, eyes sparkling with curiosity.
"You have so rather cute bonds, and it’s rather impressive that you have two of them. It’s not unheard of, but it does take a lot of ntal capacity," Justinia said, smiling faintly.
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"Yes, they’re rather important to ," Vaeliyan replied. He rubbed Bastard’s head gently as he spoke, and Bastard leaned into his palm with a slow blink.
"I can fully understand why. Bonds are family. And family is the most important thing."
Vaeliyan just nodded as he tried not to devour the slice of pie. Whatever the fruit was, this gob-gob fruit that she clearly was excited for him to try, was unbelievably good. His mouth had never tasted such flavors. The textures, the layers, the way it dissolved into pure sweetness... it was like tasting color and sound all at once. He couldn’t even describe it. The crust shattered delicately, then lted on his tongue.
With a mouthful, he said, "This is absolutely delicious. Where is this from? Where did you get this?"
"Oh, it’s a fruit collected by a little bird called a grey husker. The gob-gob fruit itself is rather, well, extrely poisonous. But the grey huskers only eat the poisonous husk of the fruit and leave the delicious pulp behind to be consud by other creatures. It is one of the most prized fruits in the entire world, as it can only be harvested by them. There are thods to extract the pulp synthetically, but I find the real grey husker’s natural thod to be the best."
"Interesting. Can I have more?" he said, eyeing the rest of the pie.
Styll looked up at Justinia. "Can she also have so? Do you have anything for... well, this is Styll and this is Bastard. Bastard, Styll, this is Grandma. Grandma, Styll, Bastard. Do you have anything that they can have?"
"Oh yes. Sure, my dear. What would they like?"
Styll marched over to the table and grabbed a pile of cookies. Way too many cookies. She started stacking them into her mouth while also trying to fit as many as she could into Vaeliyan’s pockets, crumbs spraying like confetti. Bastard lowered his head and took one between his teeth as if humoring her.
Justinia’s lips twitched. "She’s so cute. I love it."
Then she looked back at Vaeliyan, her smile sharpening. "Anyways, Vaeliyan, you’re in an extrely unique position for our House. You ca out of nowhere and took the first seat from our... well, we weren’t sure if our contestant..."
"You can just call her Sylen. I know who she is. She’s my cousin."
"Yes. My granddaughter. My granddaughter Sylen was ant to make it into the top four. And she didn’t. But then you ca along and took first place in your entrance exam. Rather spectacularly, if I might add. I’ve seen the holos and you did well."
She folded her hands. "But then, not more than two weeks later, you did the impossible by defeating the strongest cadet of your whole Citadel. And her entire squad. Taking their positions as fourth years. Which is unheard of. If that were not enough, the fact that you are all on track to graduate as High Imperators... and now you have not only done that, you have guaranteed yourself that you can form a squadron of High Imperators. Do you have any idea how rare that is? To have a full squadron of cadets who ca up together all beco High Imperators? Imperators alone are rare. Sotis it happens. But there are only records of five instances where a full squad of High Imperators have ever co about. And the fact that the Red has already done it once ant it should not have been likely that it happened again."
She leaned forward slightly. Her gaze locked on him like a predator scenting blood. "You are not only doing that; you are stepping into the position in your first year. It is sothing that we as House Verdance must get behind. You are the future. And the future must be shaped before it has the chance to shape itself."
The longer they spoke, the more Vaeliyan felt that if he hadn’t known any better, if he hadn’t been warned, if he hadn’t rembered what Sylen had told him, he could have mistaken the woman in front of him for a true grandmother. She radiated an effortless charm, a kind of practiced warmth that could have passed for genuine to anyone less guarded. She laughed softly, told old family stories about the pastries on the table, explaining where the ingredients ca from: orchard estates where rare sugars were still harvested by hand at dawn, sprawling family gardens where bees were bred over centuries for honey that could crystallize into gold-thread strands, secret underground greenhouses that grew flowers whose petals flavored the tea. Her voice wrapped around these tales like silk, carrying nostalgia as if it were perfu, clinging to every word until the room seed to glow with it.
It was all rather charming. The air itself felt softer around her, golden and warm, like the room had been made for comfort alone. And yet beneath that gentle atmosphere, he could feel the hum of political machinations thrumming like hidden machinery. Every movent she made was precise. Every gleam of her smile was calculated. There was sothing cold beneath her performance of affection, sothing sharper than familial loyalty hiding behind her eyes. She claid to be here out of care, but her presence reeked of strategy. She didn’t just see him as family. She saw him as a weapon waiting to be honed, branded, and unleashed.
And in that mont, he realized sothing unsettling. If it ca down to it, he could use this connection. He could anchor himself in this society, leverage this bloodline as a shield or a banner when he inevitably unveiled himself as the next Headmaster. House Verdance carried weight. Even a whisper of their support could open doors that strength alone could not force. Their na could elevate him from a rising anomaly to an undeniable institution. But that made them a double-edged blade. One wrong move, one misstep, and she might turn that blade inward without hesitation. He was still unsure if he wanted to play with a blade that sharp, or if he could afford not to.
As Justinia gently refilled his teacup with her poised, perfect hands, he found himself wondering if she already suspected how dangerous he might beco. Maybe she did. Maybe that was why she was here, smiling at him like he was already hers.
Justinia looked at him and said, "I’m sorry. I did not an to take up as much ti as I did. Your friends are probably waiting for you. We will talk later. Please do not be a stranger. You are family, and we have a lot of catching up to do. Yes, there are so unfortunate political reasons for to be here, but truly, Vaeliyan, my child, my dear grandson, I do care about my family, and you are part of it, even if I did not know that you were. I would not have left you out in the cold."
Her tone softened slightly at the edges, like a blade being sheathed after tasting air. For the first ti, her eyes almost seed human, though the steel never fully faded.
She lifted her cup, then set it down with a delicate clink that echoed too loudly in the quiet. "There is one prize that you have won, and I took it into my custody because I wanted to be the one to give it to you."
Her smile returned, brighter than before, but this ti it felt sharper, like the glint of a knife catching candlelight, as though what she was about to give him might change more than just his standing in the eyes of House Verdance. It might change everything.
“So, what is this final prize that you decided you needed to be the one to give ?” Vaeliyan asked, leaning back slightly in his chair. His tone was light, but there was a tightness around his eyes, a faint tension in his jaw. He had not relaxed once during this entire conversation, and now even Styll had gone still in his pocket as if sensing his unease.
Justinia’s smile softened in a way that felt rehearsed, yet still disarming. Her posture never shifted, not a single hair out of place. “Well, it’s an invitation.”
“An invitation to what?” he asked, voice careful, wary. Bastard’s tail flicked behind his chair like a silent trono, slow and deliberate.
“I think you’d rather read it than have spoil it,” she said, her eyes glinting with sothing he couldn’t quite read. “But I do want to see the look on your face when you realize what it ans. Indulge .”
She reached into her inner coat and produced a letter with slow, deliberate grace. The envelope was thick, a weighty off-white parchnt, and it was sealed with deep green wax pressed with a sigil he had never seen before. Even the paper carried a faint tallic shimr, like the residue of psyro-glass dust clinging to its surface. She held it out as if it were sothing sacred, her fingers poised like she was presenting a weapon.
Vaeliyan took it carefully. The wax was cool and firm under his thumb as he cracked the seal. The sound of the breaking wax seed to echo in the quiet room, unnaturally loud. He slid out a plain folded piece of paper from inside the envelope. The paper was unmarked on the outside, smooth and crisp, unnervingly plain for sothing wrapped in such ceremony. It almost felt heavier than it should have been, like the weight of the words inside had sunk into the fibers.
He unfolded it and began to read.
With each line, his expression darkened. His jaw clenched slightly, his lips thinning, the light in his eyes dimming like a lantern being shuttered. The easy composure he’d maintained drained from his face like ink bleeding from parchnt. His shoulders stiffened as though the words were laying chains across them, one by one. The words were few, but heavy, each one coiling around his mind like wire.
“This is not the expression I expected,” Justinia murmured, watching him closely. Her voice was quiet, but razor-edged. “Most people would be thrilled for such an opportunity.”
“Thrilled?” Vaeliyan said flatly. He looked down at the letter again, as though hoping it had changed. “It’s... unexpected.” His voice was strained, almost hollow.
“It is an opportunity to et the High Chancellor himself,” she said, her tone almost teasing, though there was a hard undertone beneath it, like steel hidden in silk. Her smile did not touch her eyes.
Vaeliyan’s mouth twitched. “I’m a bit busy, you know,” he replied, trying to play it off, though his voice ca out sharper than he intended. “I don’t know when I’d be able to et soone of this importance. Isn’t High Chancellor Gleck an incredibly busy man?”
“Oh yes,” Justinia said, folding her hands in her lap like a queen on a throne. “But this is part of the agreent with the Legion. He ets every new High Imperator squad commander. Seeing as there are not many, he’s willing to make ti. You will be taken to see him when it is most convenient for him. You don’t choose when you et Gleck. Gleck chooses when you are seen.”
She rose gracefully from her seat. Even her movents seed calculated, like part of a performance she had done a thousand tis. She gave him a small bow of her head, her hair glinting like molten copper in the soft light, and when she smiled again it looked almost maternal, if one ignored the faint glimr of triumph in her eyes.
“But that is all there is for you today,” she said gently. “Please... I wish you all the best, my dearest grandson. And I am sorry that this prize was not quite what you hoped it would be.”
Vaeliyan stared down at the letter a mont longer, the words burned into his mind, before folding it back along its crisp lines and slipping it into his coat. The parchnt seed heavier now, like a weight pressing against his ribs.
Bastard stirred at his feet, the scales along his back raised.
Because on the back of the letter, in tiny perfect script that hadn’t been there a mont ago, new words were appearing, letter by letter, spelling out his na.
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