Fexley sat with mild disapproval. He scanned the room, leaning back in his chair with crossed arms.


    "Alright. Let''s be clear about something," he muttered, voice rough with age and impatience. "I''m not here out of loyalty. I''m here because Lord Aeren had unfinished work, that I don''t want no imp to get their hands on. And now we have to trust this boy to finish it?"


    He scoffed and shook his head.


    "Cassian Vaelthorne is not his father."


    Thaddeus Wren broke the silence, who had been silent up until now. The old scholar sat, his hands neatly folded together on the table.


    "You doubt him because he is young," Wren began, his voice steady. "Because he is yet to carry the weight of the name as his father did. So let me tell you this, Master Armand Fexley. Lord Aeren was not always a great man, he was made into one. Just as his son will now."


    The room fell silent for a moment.


    Fexley''s eyes narrowed at Wren. "You are putting too much faith in an untested noble boy."


    Wren met the gaze without hesitation. "No, Master Fexley, I am putting my faith in a Vaelthorne."


    "Vaelthorne commands. We obey." An operative, clad in navy blue, spoke out, hands clasped behind their back and expression unreadable. Unlike the others, they had not taken a seat.


    A dry laugh left Fexley''s lips. "How quaint. Blind loyalty from the soldier."


    "Oh, let the boy have his chance," Emilia mused, a knife twirling between her fingers, one of her boots propped up on the table. "He might surprise us. Or he might crumble under the weight of all that inherited responsibility. Either way, it''ll be entertaining."


    Fexley shot a glare. "You don''t trust him either, smuggler."


    Emilia shrugged. The dim light cast a shadow masking her face. "Noble borns tend to disappoint, unfortunately."


    Aldric stood silently, hands behind his back, by the doors of the meeting room. Waiting for his master''s arrival to the gathered meeting. His gears whirring softly as he observed the subjects discussing.


    A click silenced the room.


    Slowly, the brass doors of the meeting room opened.


    Cassian Vaelthorne entered. But not the boy they had been discussing. He moved, unwavering. Each step, a deliberate announcement of his authority.


    The Lord of House Vaelthorne had arrived.


    His deep navy-blue tailcoat was adorned with brass filigree and a commanding high collar, whispered against the obsidian floor. Gaslight caught the edges of his polished boots, cleaming off his fine metal cufflinks. The Vaelthorne sigil, an intricate embroidery traced across his chest.


    His posture radiated certainty–chin raised, shoulders squared, gaze unflinching. Stee-grey eyes assessed each person at the table, cold and calculating, as if determining their worth.


    A ghost of his father.


    The air grew a little heavier in his presence, as if the chamber had remembered its true purpose.


    The ever-watchful automaton, Aldric, lowered his head in silent acknowledgment of his lord.


    Wren followed suit, an old gesture of respect.


    The others, however, remained watching, measuring.


    Arms still crossed, Fexley muttered something under his breath, but did not challenge Cassian.


    Emilia sat up slightly, as she raised an amused eyebrow. Her usual smirk faltered.


    The Black Sigil Guard operative simply nodded, eyes glinted behind their dark visor, recognizing something in the young lord.


    Cassian reached the head of the table, but did not sit. Instead, he placed both his hands on the polished obsidian surface.


    "You all have questions. Good." His voice was steady, measured, absolute. His gaze flickering across them. "But let me make one thing clear. House Vaelthorne did not fall with my father."


    He straightened.


    "It stands. And it stands with me."


    The young Lord turned first to Thaddeus Wren, who sat with his hands folded.


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    "Professor, my father left behind critical research, hidden with the archives of this estate. We need to uncover every last page."


    Wren lifted his head.


    "Already begun, Lord Vaelthorne. But if I may. Your father did not leave his knowledge freely. Some encoded, fragmented and cryptic. I will need time to decipher his intentions."


    "Take the time you need," Cassian replied, placing both hands on the table. His gaze shifted to Fexley, meeting his sharp eyes below bushy brows. "Fexley, you worked with my father. You worked alongside him on a classified project. I need you to follow your last order from him in the forgeworks and continue the construction on that Aether Extractor."


    Fexley slowly sat up from his leaned back position, eyes widening. "Aether... Extractor?" He asked, as he darted his eyes around the room.


    "Fexley," Cassian called, his voice iron. "There are no Imperials in this room, or even in this estate. Our words are safe here."


    The engineer let out a familiar scoff, falling back to his usual self. "The imps have caught on, your father is not the only one who knows about Aether anymore."


    "We will continue our operation nonetheless, Master Fexley," Cassian explained.


    Fexley frowned. "House Vaelthorne''s alliance with the Free Skies died with your father."


    "That''s why she is here," Cassian remarked, nodding toward Emilia.


    Emilia tapped a finger on the table, looking too entertained by the proceedings.


    "This is Emilia Ravenshade, a smuggler of the Free Skies. She was sent here to rebuild that alliance." Cassian introduced.


    "At first I thought you just brought me here to watch the nobles play their games," she purred.


    Cassian met her gaze. "You are here because it benefits both parties."


    "Of course," Emilia agreed, a sly smirk on her face. "But what are we talking here?"


    "Thirty percent," Cassian replied simply. "We provide you with the equipment necessary to obtain it, you just bring the ship."


    Emilia exhaled through her nose, "Forty percent. For the recruitment cost, fuel or if there are any damages to the ship or crew."


    "Forty it is."


    Cassian''s sharp gaze turned to the silent operative. "You maintain security over this House. The Empire have proven threatening toward our House. Send out your spies, figured what they know, what they want to know, and what they will do next."


    The soldier bowed their head slightly. "Understood, Lord Vaelthorne."


    "Thank you, Captain Rylen." Cassian straightened, looking across them. Some showed trust, others doubt, some duty. He clenched sweaty hands behind his back, exhaling quickly through his nose.


    "You have your orders. This meeting is dismissed." Cassian''s voice cut through the chamber like tempered steel.


    The doors swung open.


    Lady Evelyn strode in like an unsheathed blade, cloaked in navy and black.


    "That''s enough." Her voice, smooth but commanding. Her cold, calculating gaze piercing through Cassian like ice. "You''ve played at this long enough, Cassian. The Vaelthorne name is not claimed, it is earned."


    Cassian stood fast, unflinching. "Leave us," he commanded, casting an eye at his subjects.


    For a moment, no one moved. Casting looks at each other.


    Then, Captain Rylen bowed his head and exited without a word.


    Fexley scoffed and shook his head, but followed.


    A smirk stretched across Emilia''s face, before she did as Cassian commanded.


    Thaddeus Wren hesitated, his eyes locked on Lady Evelyn, then he looked at Cassian.


    "Master Wren," Cassian ordered, politely.


    Thaddeus obeyed with a silent bow, before he stood up.


    The doors closed behind Lady Evelyn, who''s eyes never left Cassian''s. Silence hung in the air of the chamber like smoke. Her eyes narrowed.


    "This game ends here."


    "I don''t see what the game is, Aunt." Cassian replied simply, his voice smooth.


    Evelyn took a step forward, placing herself close to Cassian, an intimidation attempt.


    Cassian did not flinch.


    "Your father built this house with his mind, his brilliance. You believe you can simply take his place?" Her voice grew coarser.


    "I am my father''s son. The rightful heir to House Vaelthorne. I will not be questioned."


    "You are not your father," she said, a vein forming on her forehead.


    Cassian''s hands curled into fists behind his back. His eyes locked into hers. "I will be better."


    "You think with name alone, gives you the power?" Her voice raised. "The Inquisition is watching. Your father''s allies are scattered or turned against him. And yet, you stand here, ordering spies and engineers like you are at war."


    Cassian didn''t blink. "Because I am getting ready for what''s to come."


    Lady Evelyn exhaled sharply.


    "You are making a big mistake, Cassian. You have no idea of the power you are playing with."


    He stepped toward her now, standing firm and controlled. "I am the Lord of House Vaelthorne. Our House is on the verge of collapse, so I am doing what is necessary to keep us standing."


    For the first time, Lady Evelyn didn''t have a reply. Only the sound of her increasingly uncontrolled breathing echoed in the chamber.


    "This matter is settled." Cassian said, spoken like his father.


    "No, you cannot—"


    "Silence!" Cassian''s voice rang loud, echoes lingering in tall ceiling. Then, the chamber fell silent.


    Lady Evelyn flung herself around, her heels clicking loudly as she left the room, but stopped by the threshold. "Don''t expect me to pick up the pieces when you make a mess of it."


    Cassian exhaled, tension crawling up his spine as he watched his aunt slam the door behind her. Evelyn wasn''t wrong, the name weighed heavy on his shoulders. He knew the empire had their eyes on him, and that earning his title fast was crucial for not only his house''s survival, but also his own.