“And so we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.” — F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

  ???

  Halberd Reach, the domain of House Hunt in the central regions of Alathia, was as imposing as ever when Hamilton dismounted from his horse, with the stableboy leading the animal away after bowing politely to Hamilton.

  The steward greeted Hamilton with another polite bow when he entered the imposing, and almost fortress-like estate of House Hunt, that have traditionally served in the Protectorate division of the military, with more than one lord of House Hunt serving as the commander of Protectorate.

  “Lord Alaric is in the study with Young Master Cassius, Lord Nightray,” The steward said, taking Hamilton’s coat.

  Hamilton nodded in response. He had visited Halberd Reach countless times since he was a boy, having been best friends with Alaric Hunt even before their enrolments in the Imperial Officers Academy. Their fathers had been friends, and had introduced their sons to each other. Alaric, too, had stood as Hamilton’s best man at his wedding, as Hamilton had done at his.

  Hunt Manor was as silent as ever when Hamilton made his way up the stairs to the top floor of the manor, where the lord’s study is located. Apart from the occasional maid who was dusting, Hamilton met no one on his way to Alaric’s study.

  Hamilton knocked on the study door, only to hear a muffled, “Come in,” from behind the door, before he opened it.

  As usual, the study of Lord Alaric Hunt was a well-organised chaos of strategy maps, ledgers, and old war relics hanging on the walls. Bookshelves lined one side of the room, with some shelves holding mounted blades and weapons displayed on pedestals.

  Lord Alaric Hunt was seated behind his desk. Today, however, he is dressed in his casuals, evidently teaching Cassian Hunt his heir duties, with the boy seated across Alaric at his desk. Both Hunt men have the same dark brown hair and steel-grey eyes—a Hunt physical trait, just as the members of House Nightray were known for their dark hair with purple highlights, and silver eyes.

  Alaric gave Hamilton a small grin behind his desk before he turned his attention towards his son. “All right, that’s all for today,” he said. “Take the rest of the day off, Cassian. Go spar with your brother or something. Just don’t break anything.”

  Cassian Hunt, though not even in his teens yet, was already showing the sharpness of a future captain or commander. He gathered his books with practised ease. “Of course, Father.” He bowed politely to Alaric, and then to Hamilton as he moved to make his way out of the study. “Good day, Lord Hamilton.”

  “Cassian,” Hamilton inclined his head respectfully, watching the boy depart with the quiet grace of someone raised for command.

  When the door shut behind Cassian, Alaric chuckled and stood from his desk. “Hamilton,” he grinned at his old friend. “You’re a sight for sore eyes. What brings the Ghost of Evershade to Halberd Reach?”

  The grin he shot at Hamilton was roguish—the same one he used to flash during their days at the Imperial Officers Academy, usually before Alaric came up with some harebrained scheme involving girls, duelling, or whiskey.

  Hamilton had long lost count of the number of times he had to do damage control for Alaric or Edric, or both of them—usually involving apologising to some annoyed instructor, soothing offended students at the Academy, or even making arrangements to replace whatever that Alaric or Edric broke.

  Or even the times when Hamilton had to hunt one or both of them down, and dragged them back to the Imperial Officers Academy before curfew. Not to forget the number of times when Alaric and Edric cornered Hamilton in a panic, normally mere days before tests or exams, and begged him to tutor them.

  It’s a miracle either of them graduated at all, with their last-minute cramping all the time.

  Now, years later, they are fathers, and have come a long way from the reckless teens they once were. In Edric’s case, however, Hamilton wasn’t sure if that change was a good or bad thing.

  Hamilton’s eyes narrowed at his old friend. “If you’re about to bring up the suggestion of a betrothal between our children again…” He trailed off, letting the warning hang.

  Lesser men would have wet themselves at the look on Hamilton Nightray’s face. Not Alaric Hunt, though.

  “Come now,” Alaric’s grin never wavered. “You have to agree it wouldn’t be a bad idea. We’re practically family already. And if your daughter marries my son, it’ll only cement it. Think of all the political nightmares we could cause. Or the headaches we could give Edric.” His grin widened.

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  Hamilton wasn’t deterred. His glare could have melted glacier. “Not on your life. My daughter will marry whoever she wishes. If you want your boy to marry my daughter, he’s going to have to win her heart.”

  Alaric sighed dramatically. “Oh well, it’s worth a try.” His carefree grin slipped from his face when he saw the look on Hamilton’s face and sighed, gesturing him into the chair before his desk, already retrieving a bottle of red wine from beneath his desk. “From the look on your face, I got a feeling this is not just a social call.”

  Hamilton shook his head as Alaric poured two glasses, handing one to him. “No, it isn’t,” he admitted. “I have no idea who else to turn to.” He sighed. “It’s about Edric.”

  A muscle in Alaric’s cheek twitched. “I had a feeling it was about that, especially considering how the last meeting the Ten Great Houses had with the king had gone,” he admitted. “This about Nuvelle?”

  Hamilton nodded grimly. “I tried everything. So has Lord Esmund,” he said tiredly. “But Edric is not listening. He’s been shutting out counsel from everyone, even from the Ten Great Houses. As for the situation in Nuvelle? Edric sees it as an opportunity to prove our strength, and that offering Nuvelle aid is us showing ‘weakness’. Nothing I say is making it through to him. It’s like everything I say goes in one ear and out the other.”

  Alaric sighed, draining half his glass in one go. “Typical Edric,” he muttered. “I know we gave you lots of headaches during our days at the Imperial Officers Academy, but even I understood that strategy mattered. Edric, however, he always believed that brute force is enough to solve everything, despite the number of times you knocked him on his back during duels.”

  Hamilton was silent, taking a sip from his glass. “But you learned. You grew,” he said at last. “You’ve come a long way from the boy who was summoned home weekly for causing trouble, to the commander of Protectorate.” Alaric gave a crooked grin. “Edric, however…” Hamilton sighed. “I tried reasoning. So did Lord Esmund. Even the queen. I even offered to send aid to Nuvelle from my own private stores. Edric refused. He either can’t see or refuses to see the desperation in Nuvelle for what it is.”

  Alaric pressed his lips together tightly. “Protectorate scouts are reporting rises in border skirmishes lately,” he revealed. “The other Great Houses that had territories on the borders with Nuvelle were reporting the same thing. Lord Kael especially.”

  House Kael, one of the most militaristic of the Ten Great Houses, had territories spanning the entire northern border. From the last correspondence that Hamilton had received from Lord Garron Kael, there has been an increase in skirmishes from Nuvelle soldiers.

  Hamilton nodded grimly. “Lord Kael said as much,” he replied wearily. “He hasn’t reported it officially to the king yet, as he fears it would make things worse with Nuvelle. I helped him with one such skirmish in the Northern Holds. Those ‘bandits’ aren’t wearing identifiable Nuvelle gear. But I know Nuvelle steel when I see it. Likely soldiers or even former soldiers who were pushed into raiding out of desperation. Driven by hunger, not conquest. King Theodore is desperate, and I can’t blame him when his people are dying of starvation. Solyara and our other neighbours are in no position to help them either.”

  Alaric groaned. “What on earth is Edric thinking, or not thinking in this case?” He wanted to know. “He’s always been hard-headed and stubborn, but he at least listens to you.” His jaw clenched. “At this rate, it’s only a matter of time before war breaks out between Alathia and Nuvelle. Desperate men make for dangerous men, which we both know. And it’ll be our people who bleed for Edric’s pride.”

  Tense silence fell in the study between the two friends. Finally, Hamilton sighed, reaching for his glass. “I told him as much,” he admitted. “But Edric isn’t listening. He hasn’t listened to me for years.” He added bitterly.

  Alaric was silent for several moments before he sighed. “This is also about how he’s treating Prince Lucien, isn’t it?” He eyed Hamilton knowingly.

  While not many people knew about the identity of the Crown Prince, or even that there are two princes, Lord Alaric Hunt is one of the few outside the Imperial Palace who knew about the existence of Prince Lucien, and even Prince Rem. Being the commander of Protectorate, part of Alaric’s duties is to ensure that the Imperial Palace and royal territories are protected. As a result, he is one of the rare few who knew about Prince Lucien.

  Hamilton nodded. “It’s escalated,” he admitted. “The king refuses to even acknowledge him properly, let alone treat him as anything but a curse. I’d rather that Edric continue treating him with indifference, the way he did when Prince Lucien was five. At least then, the boy wouldn’t be constantly covered in bruises, or constantly forced to go without meals.”

  “The Crownsguards won’t tolerate this for long,” Alaric said quietly. “Honour and conduct are important amongst their ranks. And what the king is doing… It’s dishonour to them.”

  “They’re nearing their limit,” Hamilton agreed. “They’ve seen what’s happening. And they know it for what it is: abuse.”

  “The people won’t take it well if news of what the king is doing behind closed doors to his own son gets out,” Alaric murmured, and Hamilton nodded. He took in a deep breath, his eyes troubled. “I never even met the Crown Prince, but… He’s a child.” Alaric said, troubled. “He doesn’t deserve this.”

  “A child with the ability to read minds, never mind that he had it under control,” Hamilton murmured. “But to Edric, it simply means that Prince Lucien can slip into his mind at will, not that Prince Lucien worked so hard to control his gift in order to silence the voices he can hear.” He rubbed at his temples with frustration. “I tried everything. Even asked Edric to allow Prince Lucien to stay with us at Nightray Manor permanently. To train him alongside my daughter. He thrives there, Alaric. He smiles. Behave like a normal boy.” Hamilton’s eyes were gentle when he recalled how the prince had behaved in Nightray Manor. “But Edric refused. It’s like whatever I say—whether it is about Nuvelle or Prince Lucien, all goes in one ear and out the other.”

  Alaric swirled his drink thoughtfully. “And what happens once both princes turn nine, and the king has to announce the identity of the Crown Prince?” he asked. “Or when Prince Lucien turns sixteen? Or eighteen?”

  Hamilton‘s expression darkened. “That’s what I’m worried about,” he admitted. “The look in Edric’s eyes when he sees Prince Lucien these days… It’s not just fear anymore, Alaric.” He sighed. “I’m a father myself. Even if Yulia can read my mind, I would never think of treating her the way Edric treats his son.”

  Alaric was quiet for a moment. Then unexpectedly, he suddenly spoke, “Do you remember the night before graduation? Back at the Academy?”

  Hamilton looked at him with a raised brow, a perplexed expression on his face at the sudden change in topic.

  “We were talking about the future.” Alaric mused. “I was going into Protectorate, like all Hunt men. You were headed into Black Ops, and learning more about the heirship duties of House Nightray, as I am with House Hunt. And Edric… He was going to begin learning how to rule. The topic went to future children and future families at some point. I remember Edric said that he would never treat any child of his the way his father treated him. The coldness. The constant scoldings. The silence.”

  Alaric shook his head. “Now he’s simply doing what King Alastair did to him, but worse. It’ll be kinder if Edric just exiles Prince Lucien. Send him far away. But knowing his pride… He would never allow even that much.”

  Hamilton nodded grimly. “That’s what I fear,” he murmured. “That Edric will do more than exile him when the time comes. That he’ll order something far worse.” He sighed. “The relations between the Crown and House Nightray has been strained for years—ever since Prince Lucien started showing up at Evershade with bruises.”

  Alaric winced. Even if no one said anything, knowing the people of House Nightray, more than one of them would put the pieces together with just one look at the bruises on the Crown Prince.

  “I’m surprised your House hasn’t revolted yet,” Alaric murmured, half-joking.

  “If the king does anything worse, they will,” Hamilton murmured, his brows creased. “I have an entire House full of assassins ready to do anything to protect him. And my daughter is also losing patience. Not just with the king, but also with Prince Lucien’s twin.”

  Alaric let out a low whistle. “Not a good idea, or a very intelligent idea, to put the most lethal House in all of Alathia at odds with the Crown, especially the future head of House Nightray,” he muttered. He cleared his throat. “If it comes to it… And if Edric forces our hand, then I’ll stand with you.” Hamilton blinked. “Whether it’s to shield Prince Lucien, or to save our kingdom.”

  Hamilton gave a grim smile. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” he murmured.