Chapter 7

To ensure swift resolution, she forwent even the smallest luxuries. Sleep was a luxury she could not afford.

She roused aides from their beds, stormed through paperwork, and completed the primary report before sunrise.

At dawn, without pause, she strode to the harbor.

“Search everything. Leave no deck unturned.”

“Aye, ma’am!”

The ship, conscripted in the night, was scoured thoroughly. The crew was scrutinized. Handpicked soldiers filled the remaining berths.

Then, under heavy guard, the coffins of Zerion and his fallen protectors were carried aboard.

Everything that could be done—had been done.

Curtis  arrived at the harbor just as the final preparations were completed.

“Did you sleep well?” Roxana asked.

“I owe it to your kindness,” he replied.

He looked rested. Youth clung to him still—resilient despite the weight he bore.

Roxana gave a tired nod.

“The ship departs immediately. Two escort vessels will accompany you. Barring an army, you’ll be safe.”

“Thank you for the arrangements.”

“Here is the official report. Deliver it to the House. I’ll send a follow-up myself when I can.”

“I will see it done.”

There was no room for idle words. Roxana, exhausted, turned away to reclaim what rest she could.

And Curtis ’s ship set sail—cutting across the sea like a blade through silk.

Quinis stood as one of the southernmost cities of the continent. But beyond it, far to the south, lay a scattered kingdom across the sea—the Solar Archipelago, six great islands adrift in the ocean’s embrace.

There, on the largest island of them all, stood the city of Solta—capital of the waves and home of the noble House Pelagius.

Three days passed without incident. The voyage was the most comfortable Curtis  had ever known. No masters to serve. No orders to obey. The finest quarters. Solitude.

And yet, as they neared their destination, his peace faded.

The fault was not his. The ambush had not been his doing. And yet he was the bearer of dark tidings—news that would shatter lives.

But what else could he do? The truth must be carried, no matter how heavy.

Once the ship moored, Curtis  left strict orders to maintain a military watch and disembarked alone.

He made his way swiftly to the Pelagius estate.

“Steward.”

“Curtis ? When did you return? Where is the young master?”

“Well… that is…”

Moments later, the household erupted into chaos.

“Curtis !”

A woman burst into the room, her breath ragged, eyes wide, hands trembling as they seized his shoulders.

Eliana Pelagius.

Zerion’s elder sister by two years.

Their bond had been strong—strong enough that Eliana had come to know Curtis  well. They’d shared words, laughter, even secrets. They were of the same age. The same sorrows.

“…Lady Eliana.”

“Say it again. What did you say happened to Zerion? Tell me it’s not true. Tell me it’s a lie.”

“…I’m sorry.”

Her knees buckled. “Ah—ahh—”

“Lady Eliana!”

A handmaiden caught her as she collapsed, half-folded in grief.

Supported by the girl, her voice broke as she spoke:

“Zerion’s… body… You brought him back?”

“I did.”

“I want to see him. I must. I will not believe it until I see it with my own eyes…”

“…Come. I’ll take you to the ship.”

A carriage was prepared in haste.

Curtis  guided her aboard, then to the cabin where Zerion lay in quiet repose.

He did not enter.

He closed the door gently behind her and ordered the guards to stand farther off.

From within, soft sobs echoed against the wood.

Curtis  exhaled.

He had been alone in both life and death—across two lifetimes, he had never known family. And though he had not wept for Zerion as Eliana now did, nor could he claim to feel the same storm within…

He was not heartless.

He stood vigil outside the door.

When she emerged, her eyes were swollen and red. Her face had been gently cleaned by her maid, but the sorrow remained.

“…Let us return,” she said.

Her voice still wavered, but she walked steadily. The tears were not gone—but they had been swallowed.

She, too, understood: mourning could wait.

There was still duty.

They returned to the manor, and from there, to the council hall.

Curtis  had never been permitted entry before. But this was no ordinary time. He was, after all, the only witness.

Knock, knock, knock.

With formality and care, Curtis  entered the chamber.

Inside were three figures.

Lucius  – eldest son and heir apparent.
Ariana – eldest daughter, sharp and cold.
Raven – the second son, silver-tongued and sardonic.

Eliana was the fourth of five.

And Zerion—third son, fifth child—was now dead.

The Lord of House Pelagius had borne five children.

Now, they all stood—or sat—within these walls.

“You’re late.”

Ariana’s voice was ice. Her gaze could pierce steel.

“Did you spare a thought for the people waiting for you?”

“My, how dreary,” Raven drawled with a smirk. “Not everyone is as stone-hearted as you, sister. Some, like Eliana, need time to… feel.”

“Silence, Raven. You were the one grumbling the loudest earlier.”

“Yes, but I didn’t say it with such cruelty. There’s a difference, you know. One of tone.”

Then, turning to Eliana with false warmth: “You understand, don’t you, dear sister?”

“…Yes,” she murmured, voice hollow.

Raven kept smiling. Ariana kept glaring.

And then, with a voice like thunder muffled in velvet, Lucius  spoke.

“That’s enough.”

The room quieted.

His gaze turned to Curtis .

“You were Zerion’s attendant?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Then tell us. Everything. Leave nothing out.”

The command was simple.

And Curtis  was ready. He had already told this tale—first to Roxana, then to the steward.

This would be the third time.

But the air in the chamber was different—heavier. Thicker with tension than he had imagined.

I didn’t expect the rift to be this deep…

He had always known of the family’s fractured heart.

Lucius , Ariana, and Raven were born of the first wife.

Eliana and Zerion—the second.

The elder three despised their stepmother—and all she had brought.

Eliana and Zerion, in turn, kept to themselves.

Such things were not uncommon in noble houses.

But now…

With the mother long dead, and the patriarch bedridden, no one remained to keep peace.

The cracks had widened.

And the tension now filled the hall like smoke.

Still, Curtis  thought, I didn’t expect it to be this bitter.

Eliana had clearly reported her return. And yet Ariana had offered only scorn. Raven feigned sympathy, but mocked beneath his words.