The crest dominated the wall at the back of the dining hall.
Against the dark green field—almost black—the tree rose.
Ancient.
The trunk wide, marked by deep grooves, like scars time had failed to erase.
The branches did not spread.
They rose.
Twisted.
Untamed.
Like antlers that refused to bow.
Subtle veins of light ran through the carved wood, discreet—a pulse almost imperceptible beneath the surface.
There was no gold.
There were no adornments.
Only the tree.
Rooted.
Unyielding.
The table beneath it was long, heavy, built to sustain more than meals.
Untouched plates.
Cutlery aligned with precision.
The wine already poured.
At the center—
him.
Baron Silvanis rested at the head, his broad body settled with excessive comfort into the high-backed chair.
Noble clothing strained slightly over his belly, dark fabrics adorned with details too discreet to conceal the weight of his own status.
One hand held the goblet.
The other rested on the table, thick fingers drumming in a slow rhythm.
His black eyes were half-lidded.
Watching.
Always.
The door opened.
The knight entered.
Firm steps.
Controlled.
He stopped a few meters from the table.
Knelt.
Head lowered.
Fist clenched against his chest.
"My lord."
The voice came out direct. Without tremor.
"Lady Thalia was seen entering the castle."
Silence.
The baron did not respond immediately.
He slowly turned the goblet between his fingers.
The dark wine followed the motion.
"So…" the voice came drawn, heavy with disdain, "she finally learned her place."
A breath of laughter escaped through his nose.
"Or perhaps she realized that running away with a common knight wouldn't take her very far."
He raised the goblet.
Took a short sip.
"Bring her."
A minimal pause.
"I want to see what kind of regret brought her back."
The knight did not move.
Something in the air shifted.
Subtle.
But enough.
Before any order could be repeated—
the door opened.
The sound echoed through the hall.
Not loud.
But absolute.
Silence fell.
Dense.
The baron did not turn his face immediately.
But the knight—
felt it.
The weight of the room shift.
He raised his eyes on instinct.
She stood at the doorway.
Dark brown hair fell free, dense, in heavy waves that framed her face with almost calculated precision.
There was no disorder in it.
No softness.
Only presence.
Pale green eyes with silver reflections—
rested on him for a brief instant.
Feline.
Then moved.
Slow.
Precise.
Stopped on the baron.
And did not leave.
Baron Silvanis lifted his head.
His face was heavy, broad features marked by a life of excess and decisions far too easy.
Pale skin contrasted with black eyes—too alive for someone who appeared so comfortable.
There was no surprise there.
But also—
no concession.
He let out a short breath.
The goblet paused in the air for a moment.
Then descended slowly to the table.
"Leave."
The order came low.
Effortless.
The knight rose immediately.
Head lowered.
He stepped back in firm strides, circling the table without turning his back until he reached the side.
As he approached the door—
she did not move.
She remained where she was.
Still.
As if the space already belonged to her.
The knight nodded.
Brief.
Respectful.
Without words.
His eyes shifted a degree—
beyond her.
Two figures remained behind.
Covered in cloaks.
Silent.
One of them inclined their head slightly.
A short smile.
Almost imperceptible.
And yet… wrong.
The knight did not respond.
He simply passed.
His hand touched the door.
He left.
And as it closed—
the sound sealed whatever was about to happen.
The baron held her gaze for a moment.
Then—
"Tell me, Thalia."
The voice came low.
Measured.
"My men are already positioned at the edges of the territory."
A short pause.
"Had you insisted on your… escape, the outcome would already be decided."
His fingers turned the goblet slowly.
The wine followed.
"And yet…"
His eyes narrowed a fraction.
"you return of your own accord."
Another pause.
Slower.
"I admit that does stir a certain curiosity."
His gaze did not shift.
"What made you abandon… a choice so far beneath your name."
She did not look away.
Held it.
For a moment longer.
She moved.
Her steps were slow.
Precise.
The sound echoed through the hall without haste, marking presence more than advance.
She stopped before the table.
Her hand touched the back of the chair.
Pulled.
The wood slid against the floor with a contained sound.
Without asking permission—
she sat.
Posture straight.
Eyes fixed on him.
As if she had never been in an inferior position.
The silence did not break.
She moved it.
A faint smile touched her lips.
Brief.
Controlled.
"After my brief encounter with the messenger from the south…"
A short pause.
"The same one Your Lordship refused to receive."
Her eyes remained on him.
"I heard something… interesting."
The baron did not react immediately.
He simply turned the goblet once.
"It is not your place to involve yourself in matters of the southern county."
The answer came dry. Without raising his voice.
Thalia inclined her head a fraction.
As one who accepts… before cutting.
"If I hadn't involved myself—"
A short pause.
"Doros would be dead now."
The silence tightened.
"He was the one who warned about the movements at the exits of the territory."
The baron's fingers stilled for a moment.
Then resumed their movement on the goblet.
"And thanks to that… misfortune—"
The voice came heavier.
"the commoner still breathes."
Her smile did not disappear.
But it changed.
Less light.
Sharper.
"I thought about giving up."
The sentence came clean.
Without hesitation.
"Leaving the title."
The baron let out a dry breath through his nose.
Disgust.
"Thinking isn't the problem."
A pause.
"The problem is when you start taking those ideas seriously."
Her gaze did not shift.
"Uncle."
The word fell low.
But firm.
"Tell me…"
A short pause.
"did you have any involvement in my parents' deaths?"
The silence did not merely fall—
it weighed.
The baron did not respond immediately.
He brought the goblet to his lips.
Drank.
Too slow.
"You are tired."
The voice came controlled.
Cold.
"And clearly susceptible to influence."
Her eyes did not blink.
"Then perhaps you can clarify something else for me."
A slight inclination.
Her body leaned a fraction over the table.
"Have you ever heard of a group that calls itself… democrats?"
The goblet struck the table.
Dry.
The sound cut the air.
"Where did you get that stupidity?"
The voice rose for the first time.
Not in volume—
in weight.
Her gaze lowered.
Slow.
Running over him.
Measuring.
"I see."
The baron did not wait for a reply.
His hand struck the table a second time.
Harder.
"Guards."
The door opened almost at once.
Two knights entered.
Firm steps.
Hands close to their weapons.
"My niece is tired."
The voice returned to control.
Cold.
"Take her to her chambers."
A pause.
"And make sure she rests."
Thalia did not move immediately.
Then—
her hand struck the table.
The sound was not loud.
But it was final.
She rose.
Posture straight.
Gaze steady.
"I am Thalia Silvanis Eryndra."
She did not raise her voice.
"I imagine you still remember what that means."
A brief silence.
Her eyes passed over the guards.
Measuring.
"Or do I need to refresh your memory?"
Her hand rested lightly on the table.
Calm.
"Your oaths were not made to a seat."
A sideways glance, almost casual.
"Much less to whoever occupies it temporarily."
Her eyes returned to the baron.
Unhurried.
"They were made to the Eryndra bloodline."
A short pause.
"And, by consequence… to me."
Silence.
She inclined her head slightly.
Almost a gesture of patience.
"So do what you have always done."
A faint smile.
Cold.
"Do as you were sworn to do."
The silence did not break immediately.
The baron watched her.
Long.
Weighing every word spoken… and what it implied.
He smiled.
Short.
Without warmth.
"'Eryndra bloodline.'"
He repeated slowly.
As if tasting the idea.
The goblet turned between his fingers.
"Curious."
A pause.
"Because, as far as I remember…"
His eyes lifted.
Fixed on her.
"when this house lost its lords… you were not here to claim it."
The air cooled.
"You were young."
Yes.
"But absent."
Another pause.
"And houses are not upheld by names."
The goblet touched the table.
This time, firm.
"They stand on decisions."
A slight lean forward.
"Decisions I made."
Silence.
"While you… grew far enough away to forget what that demands."
The guards remained still.
But not neutral.
One of them adjusted his posture.
Too late to hide who had received the order first.
Thalia's gaze did not change.
Did not react.
Only—
listened. To the end.
A faint smile touched her lips.
Small.
Polite.
Almost… grateful.
"It's true."
The answer came calm.
Unhurried.
"I was young."
A short pause.
"And you… were necessary."
Her eyes did not shift.
"The house remained standing."
Another step.
Slow.
"And for that…"
She inclined her head slightly.
Respect.
Or something close to it.
"you have my gratitude."
Silence.
The smile remained.
But changed.
Subtly.
"Now I am not."
The sentence came simple.
Clean.
"And Eryndra… no longer tolerates substitutes."
The silence held.
A slight tilt of the head.
Almost patient.
"If your memory fails you…"
A short pause.
Her eyes passed over the guards.
Slow.
"the forest that guards this barony…"
Another instant.
"has never stopped hearing my voice."
Silence.
Her eyes returned to the baron.
Steady.
Only then—
they slid to the guards.
"Escort my uncle to his chambers."
The voice did not rise.
But left no space.
For a brief instant—
the hall held its breath.
The knights moved.
No exchanged glances.
No questioning.
One on each side.
Precise.
As they should have done from the beginning.
"And make sure he stays there."
The order came as they advanced.
Natural.
Inevitable.
The sound of steps echoed heavy against the floor.
The baron had not yet risen.
But now—
he was no longer the center.
Thalia did not look away.
"There are matters in this house…"
A slight inclination.
"that demand clarification."
The guards took position.
Close.
Enough.
"And I intend to obtain it."
The silence stretched.
"All of it."
The baron did not respond immediately.
He remained seated for a moment longer.
Still.
Then—
he placed his hands on the table.
Rose.
Unhurried.
The chair creaked low as it moved back.
The sound was lost in the heavy silence of the hall.
He did not look at the guards.
He simply walked.
Firm steps.
Controlled.
He moved along the side—
until he stopped a few steps from her.
Too close to be casual.
Far enough not to yield.
Black eyes slid to Thalia.
Unhurried.
Without urgency.
"You are making a mistake."
The voice came low.
Contained.
But firm.
A short pause.
"And you will regret it."
The silence did not give.
He watched her for a moment longer.
As if waiting for something—
or merely recording.
He turned away.
His body shifted without hesitation.
His steps resumed their path.
Direct.
Without looking back.
He approached the door.
His hand touched the wood.
An instant—
and then he opened it.
Before crossing—
he stopped.
Just enough for his voice to reach the hall one last time.
"We will see… how long you keep control."
Without turning.
Without waiting for a reply.
He left.
The door closed.
The sound echoed—
and then ceased.
The silence remained.
Thalia did not move immediately.
For a moment—
she only listened.
As if the hall still held echoes of what had been said.
Then—
she turned.
Slowly.
Her eyes found the figure beneath the cloak.
Fixed.
Unhurried.
"I hope the countess fulfills her part… Kael."
The voice came low.
Controlled.
A short pause.
"After all…"
A slight tilt of the head.
"I have just invited a war into my own house."
Her eyes did not shift.
"And, if what you told me is true…"
Another instant.
Colder.
"there are forces far beyond my uncle in play."
Silence.
Then—
the smile returned.
Small.
But without warmth.
"It would be… inconvenient to discover too late that I placed my trust in the wrong soil."
A pause.
Her fingers lightly touched the wood of the table.
Almost absent.
"Especially when even the land… learns to yield to roots, with time."
Silence.
The air grew too dense to ignore.